Nocturnal
by Salix15
Summary: AUfuturefic. Quinn Fabray struggles with the ups and downs in her life: living paycheck to paycheck, trying to pay off her student loans and support her roommate/best friend Rachel Berry who is trying to make it on Broadway. Her life is further complicated when she learns that the rumors about magic and demons aren't exactly rumors, and someone she loves is in put in great danger.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I just wanted to let everyone know that this is NOT going to be a vampire and/or werewolf story. Yes, there are some supernatural elements; magic, witches, demonic creatures and things like that, but I am tired of reading about vampires/werewolves and will not be including them in this. Thank you for your time, and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

A strong wind blew through the streets, rustling the few trees that were growing along the sidewalks, and making loose trash dance down the alleyways between the restaurants and boutiques that made up this part of the town. This wasn't a gentle breeze that made people take a moment to breathe deep and relax, taking in a simple pleasure that they didn't have to feel guilty about.

No, that wasn't it at all. This breeze meant business. It was cold, sharp, and caused anyone who felt it to wrap their coats a little tighter around themselves, and duck their heads to try and protect their faces from this chilly slap. Their footsteps would become rushed as they tried harder to get to their destinations faster in order to escape this harsh wind.

Right now, on this particular street, there was only one person out late enough to feel this, and unfortunately for her there was no escape. She sat on top of one of the roof's of the buildings lining the sidewalk, _Jack's Bar and Grill_, smoking a cigarette, braiding her blonde hair in an attempt to make it stop whipping her in the face, and she tried to forget about the fact that her toes had gone numb about forty-five minutes ago. That seemed like a long time to not feel a part of your body that could normally be felt when you focused. Would frostbite be an issue? Her stomach clenched at the thought of peeling off her shoes and socks and seeing all ten toes black and dead. She tried with all her might to push it to the back of her mind.

She took the last drag of her cigarette and dropped the butt into the coffee-can turned ashtray the staff of _Jack's_ used on their breaks. What the line cooks, wait staff, dishwashers, and bus boys or girls didn't leave up on the roof was a blanket or extra jacket, just something to help ward off this cold that seemed to work its way into her marrow. _Maybe if I wasn't sitting on the edge of a roof like a moron it wouldn't feel so bad_, she thought with a sardonic roll of her eyes.

Most of the time she liked coming onto the roof in order to survey the streets below. She knew it was immature, but it made her feel like Batman. That was a dream she always had when she was a little girl; having a cool utility belt, fighting crime and keeping the streets safe, but never able to reveal her true identity for fear of the backlash that would follow. Since she wasn't the child of millionaire parents who were murdered and left her a company this would have to be enough.

She cast a lazy glance down the alley between the little restaurant and the bridal shop when she heard something moving. _Probably just a stray, or some trash, or a stray digging in the trash_, she thought. Her lips curled into a small smile when she saw it. It was large, three maybe three hundred fifty pounds of raw power. It wasn't bulky or heavily muscled, though. Instead its weight came from height; skin that looked to be stretched beyond its limit and pulled tautly over bone that stuck out at sharp angles. She watched for a moment as it dug through the trashcan, shoving that night's toss outs from _Jack's_ into its mouth, and chewing quickly with sharp pointed teeth.

She stood from her resting place and walked over to the ladder, which lead down the right side of the building. The cold wind was still blowing loudly so she didn't have to work too hard to cover the sound of her boots on the metal rungs. Luckily, the creature was in the alley on the other side of the restaurant, scarfing down its dinner, and the old brink blocked any sounds that would have otherwise carried. Little miracles like that made the job easier, but frustration began to bubble just under the surface of her mind when she reached the end of the ladder.

_The wind just had to start blowing tonight,_ she thought when she reached the end of the ladder and looked down. The end of the ladder was a good five and a half feet from the ground, and the wind – that was currently whipping at her back, and making her hands begin to numb – had knocked over the trashcan she had used to stand on when she climbed up the ladder just a couple hours before. _Damn it all to hell_, she thought as she took a deep breath, and dropped down the large gap.

She made sure to keep her knees loose as she landed. The last thing she needed was to roll an ankle when she was so close to finishing up for the night. She took a moment to catch her breath and mentally assessed her body parts. Nothing was in pain, toes were still numb, but that seemed to be normal now that winter had the city between its teeth. Teeth that were probably made out of icicles that took pleasure in making things miserable for those who had to work late. As if her thoughts had been heard, a strong gust rocked her body forward. She barely had time to catch herself before slamming into the wall, the old brick biting at her palms. _Well, fuck you too, Winter_, she thought.

She walked around the front of the building, taking great care to keep her footsteps silent in case the noise was carried on the breeze. Her thoughts were nothing but prayers that the creature would be too distracted by its meal to pick up her scent. She was upwind with had no way of changing that, and despite her attempts to remain calm, her heart rate picked up, almost making her dizzy. When she peaked around the corner, relief washed over her when she saw it was still gorging itself on left over steak, fries, onion rings and whatever else had been thrown out. Her stomach churned unpleasantly as she watched.

That little bit of relief vanished when she noticed that it was a lot taller than she originally thought, seven and a half feet instead of only six. Its arms were at least five feet long with razor sharp claws on the end that looked to be six inches in length. That surprise was going to make things more difficult, and this task had started out really hard to begin with. She leaned back against the wall, and looked up at the inky blank sky. Not a star shone that night, and the darkness gave her a comforting feeling, like she could slip in and out of anywhere and no one would be the wiser.

Her lungs filled to the brim with a deep breath that felt sticky with humidity. The creature was bigger, and had better protection than she thought, but she still had the upper hand. He or she was still eating, had no idea it was being hunted, which gave her a head start. She pushed her anxiety down until she could ignore it, and reached behind her for the axe resting in the sheath on her back. As soon as the blade left the protective covering, the charm placed over the old cloth no longer worked, making the axe visible. Luckily there was no one around to question why a woman in her late twenties would be carrying something like this.

The back of her neck tingled with anticipation as she waited for the perfect kill shot. Experience told her that the back of the head was her best bet when it came to downing something like this in one go. The problem was, unless the thing's attention was drawn to its right, she would have to try for the side of its head, and if it saw her she would be screwed for she had been told these things were fast. Then again, she was not informed of the heinous looking claws so maybe the speed and agility were just a bunch of hype.

That was something that couldn't be risked, and since there were no stray animals around to cause a diversion she would have to create one herself. She looked around for a small rock or bottle cap or some other small object that could be easily thrown. There was nothing. Letting out sigh of agitation, she dug through her pockets until she found some spare change. A dime wasn't ideal because of its small size, but it would have to do. As discreetly as she could, she tossed it down the alley, and waited, unconsciously holding her breath, causing her lungs to burn.

The coin hit a dumpster about halfway down the long alley. She tensed up, praying that it work, but already holding another coin just in case. The coin hit hard. It sent a pinging noise bouncing off the walls of the building loud enough to be heard over the wind. The creature froze, dropped the fistful of vegetables back into the trash, and turned its head in the direction the sound came from, searching for the source just as she had hoped. It felt good to have a plan come together.

Now for the hard part. Her heart started beating wildly, and for a moment her vision was clouded with black spots, blinking in and out of existence. She took a few deep breaths to try and get it under control, as she lifted her arm and took aim. She flung the axe as hard as she could, and it felt like her heart had stopped as her whole body tensed. Her eyes felt like they would pop at any moment, they strained so badly as she watched the axe sail through the air…and crash against the wall, missing the creature's head by only an inch.

At first, all she felt was anger and frustration. She had been sitting in the freezing cold for hours waiting for this thing to show up, it was oblivious to her existence, the _perfect_ shot presented itself to her on a silver platter, and she missed it? Not to mention that she still couldn't feel her toes, which probably meant they were all dead by now. Like most things in her life weren't hard enough without adding toelessness to the list. She would probably have to buy some special, corrective boot to help her stay balanced while she walked.

The axe fell uselessly to the ground with a loud clatter, and everything seemed to speed up as the creature turned around. Her anger and frustration evaporated into the ether, and it almost felt like someone had replaced all of her blood with ice as the large beast trained its pitch black eyes onto her; its gaze hard as it seemed to pen her to the spot. Terror gripped the back of her neck with fingers that burned in contrast to the freeze spreading throughout the rest of her body.

The thing's eyes quickly glanced down at the fallen axe and then return to her, narrowed in a hateful glare. She nervously licked her lips, which suddenly seemed to have chapped and cracked, and let out a shaky breath; her body betraying her as she tried as hard as she possibly could to remain calm. Calm seemed like nothing but a concept at that point, and she had no idea how to make it an obtainable state. No, calm wet itself and went running out the door about three seconds ago.

"I don't supposed we could just go our separate ways and forget about this, could we?" she asked, her voice an octave above normal as all of her nerve endings seemed to scream the same thing: run, you moron! But she couldn't just run for it wasn't that simple. The creature had something she needed, and she couldn't leave until she took it. _It would have been so simple, too, if you had just landed the shot!_ she thought to herself. She morbidly wondered just how many body parts that thing would tear off of her before she was able to retrieve her second axe and throw it.

The creature, which she decided to name Scud justifying that if it was going to try and kill her it needed to have a name, quickly flexed its muscles, and razor sharp barbs sprung out of every pour on its back. They were dripping with a thick fluid that smelled so strong it left a foul taste in her mouth even though the wind was still blowing very strongly in the opposite direction.

"Didn't think so," she said, and Scud hissed back as it lowered into a crouch, looking like a cat getting ready to pounce. She shifted onto the balls of her feet, and all of her senses went into hyper drive as she waited for the thing to make its move. The seconds felt like hours as they stared each other down, but finally Scud lunged, closing the distance between them in one leap with its long skinny legs. Luckily she was ready for it, her years as a gymnast paying off, as she dove out of the way. It wasn't graceful, however, and she hit the ground with a hard thud that left her feeling winded.

She barely had time to roll out of the way as it ran towards her, swinging one long arm down. The sharp claws scraped along the asphalt, spitting little chunks in her direction as she stood. Adrenaline surged through her veins burning her insides as she reached back for the second axe. The creature lunged again, and the woman spun out of the way, grabbing the handle of her weapon and pulled it from its sheath in one fluid motion. She used her momentum to bring the blade around, and in one quick slice, severed the arm of her prey turned attacker.

The sound that erupted from the creature was unlike anything she had ever heard. It sent a chill down her spine, and she had to ignore the urge to cover her ears and run. A high pitched ringing echoed inside her head after the beast stopped wailing, and she became painfully aware of the fact that all of the sounds around her seemed farther away than they should be, and her right ear was barely registering any noise at all. _Great, first my toes and now my hearing; what else is this stupid night going to take from me?_ she thought, and jumped back as a long arm came swinging towards her.

A scream of pain was ripped out of her throat when the tips of the claws sliced across her belly. She avoided the urge to lift up her now ripped shirt and assess the damage since her organs weren't falling to the pavement. She decided to deal with what was going on in front of her right now. And right now a very pissed off Scud was swinging its good arm wildly while a light blue colored liquid gushed out of the stump she had created. _Maybe all I have to do is wait for it to bleed to death. Finally something is going right!_ she thought and dodged another swing of the razor sharp claws, barely avoiding being sliced up again. _Ok, easier said than done_.

She took off down the alley, glancing over her shoulder once to make sure the creature was following her. _Ok, what's the plan; what's the plan?_ she thought and glanced around. She saw another service ladder, this one leading up to the bridal shop and immediately went for it. Dropping the axe to the ground, she jumped up on the dumpster and ran for the ladder. She grabbed onto the last rung and pulled herself up, and started climbing as quickly as she could.

Her heart was beating so fast and powerful she could taste cooper in the back of her throat, and her vision was starting to blur around the edges, but she willed herself not to look down. The ladder was a good five feet off the ground, but that thing was over seven feet, and had really long, well, now just _an_ arm. The size had been intimidating on the ground, but now it terrified her as the harsh reality of what would happen to her legs if she didn't get out of its reach fast enough tried to invade her mind. She grit her teeth, and pushed it aside like a rickety dam holding back a flood.

Halfway to the roof she stopped and finally allowed herself to glance down. She was out of the thing's grasp, but only just. The tips of its claws could barely graze the bottoms of her boots. She climbed up three more rungs. She didn't know if the thing knew how to jump or had the energy to, but why risk it? It glanced up at her, its black eyes narrowed and heated with anger as it hissed at her. She could tell the blood loss was starting to take effect, and for the first time in five minutes she felt relieved.

_Thank God,_ she thought as the thing started to stagger. It swayed back and forth on large bony feet, and held its arm out trying to keep balance. Its upper body leaned back, and it took three quick steps backwards trying to stay upright, but the blood loss was too significant. It fell to the ground with a sickening crunch, and she winced in sympathy when its chin smacked violently against the asphalt. It twitched around for a few moments, trying to get up, before it lay still, and everything went quiet.

"Holy crap," she said around a large exhale. Her breathing was still erratic, her heart pounding dangerously fast, but the adrenaline was starting to wear off. She knew that because she was starting to shake, and her mind finally registered exactly how painful those claw marks were. She very slowly climbed down the ladder expecting that thing to pop up at any moment, but it never did. She slowly stepped onto the dumpster and hopped down, every move seemed to set her stomach on fire.

She took a moment to focus on slowing her breathing and heart rate. Now that the immediate threat was down, she needed to work on getting rid of the second: bacteria. She wasn't a hypochondriac, but even she knew that being sliced open by a creature that, only moments before, had its talon like claws wrist deep in trash wasn't something that should be ignored and left untreated.

Wincing in pain, she reached behind her and felt around the invisible sheath until she felt the charm. Small and round, it felt like a marble wrapped tightly with a string, and tied to the shoulder holster. She gripped it firmly and pulled. The string snapped, the charm's magic instantly vanished and the gray holster became visible. At that same moment, a sharp pain erupted in her head, and she clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming out. Shrugging it off her shoulders, she knelt down and fumbled for a moment with shaking hands until she unzipped the small pouch.

After retrieving the contents, she stood, pouring a generous amount of the salve onto her hand. She dropped the now empty container to the ground, lifted her ruined shirt, and smeared the foul smelling ointment onto the cuts. They weren't very deep at all, and looked more like paper cuts that ran across her stomach just above her belly button. She knew just from the damaged caused by such a slight graze and the size of the beast's claws that she was extremely lucky her internal organs were still very much internal.

As she used her fingers to thoroughly cover the cuts, the ointment, which consisted of ingredients she never even knew existed until a few hours ago, immediately went to work. The pain all but vanished save for a slight stinging sensation as the skin rapidly healed. In moments the bleeding stopped, the stinging wasn't as pronounced, and the cuts had closed and were starting to scab over. She let out a small sigh of relief, and wiped the left over salve on the front of her jeans. She hesitantly sniffed the tips of her fingers, and her face contorted into a look of disgust.

"I've got to ask if he can make this stuff smell like mint or something," she mumbled, and dug around in the pouch again. She pulled out a small, empty jar, and walked over to the dead creature. Now that her prey was down and her wounds had been taken care of it was time to get down to business. She waited hours for this, and she wasn't going to let a near death experience get in the way of completing her task.

Kneeling down next to the creature, she pulled up her pant leg and retrieved the pair of pliers she had been told to bring. Taking them out of the sheath she normally used for a knife, she took a deep breath and tried to mentally prepare herself. The guilt for killing him or her, she still wasn't sure which, was already twisting her stomach into knots, and now she was going to harvest parts of it like a poacher. She closed her eyes for a few moments, and created a mental image, thought of the reason why she was doing all of this in the first place, and her feelings subsided.

"Oh gross," she hissed, as she carefully cut one of the barbs sticking out of the creature's back. She got as close to the skin as she possibly could, and the nasty smelling fluid oozed out. Careful not to touch that, she used the pliers to place the barb in the jar. She repeated this several times, gagging and cursing at the horrible smell that soon became thick in the air around her, until the jar was full.

Putting the pliers back in the sheath, she stood quickly and backed away from the body, sucking in fresh air that didn't feel coated in the putrid odor. She twisted the lid tightly on the jar, and put it back in the small pouch on the holster. She tried as hard as she could to forget about everything that happened in the last forty-five minutes as she gathered her axes and put them back in their sheaths.

"This shit had better be worth it," she said, wrapping a new string around the charm and tying it to the shoulder holster. As soon as it was secured the charm's magic activated. A soft glow enveloped the polyester nylon blend, and a slight burning sensation tingled over her entire body, causing some discomfort, but not very much pain. She watched, amazed like always, as it disappeared from sight. She still wasn't used to this: the magic that really existed, the literal monsters that went bump in the night if they were clumsy, but most thought were a myth. It was real, she had the invisible axes, and body of a dead Daimonas to prove it.

She shrugged the shoulder holster back over her jacket, the wind making every movement feel like a struggle. She rubbed her temples trying to get rid of the oncoming headache with willpower alone. After a few seconds, she accepted the fact that it wasn't going away. She took one last look at the body; lying in a pool of its own blood, over a dozen barbs cut from its back. Gulping down the bile that was rising in her throat, she made her way out of the alley, and back into the cold, windy night.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: and here is chapter 2. Please forgive any mistakes, this hasn't been beta-ed. Chapter three will be up as soon as possible, so maybe a day or two but possibly sooner if I'm inspired to write that quickly.**

* * *

Quinn Fabray walked into her fifth floor walk-up, kicked the door closed behind her, and tried as hard as she could not to pass out on the floor. She was exhausted, still smelled like the nasty salve used to heal the claw marks on her stomach, and she craved a cigarette like never before. The craving would have to be left unfulfilled, however, because she had quit three weeks ago. At least, that's what she had promised, and she wasn't about to be caught breaking a promise by the person she made it to.

_What I wouldn't give for a hot shower and ten hours sleep_, she thought, pulling the charm from the shoulder holster and placing in the dish on the end table in the tiny living room. It was sparsely decorated with a couch, a recliner, a television, some photos of friends and family members hanging on the wall, plus the end table with the lamp and dish with decorative glass beads and marbles which she used to hide her charms. It came in handy unless someone started to admire them with their hands instead of their eyes. Things had a tendency to get very messy when that happened.

"Quinn?" she heard her roommate call out from down the hall. She kicked off her boots, took off the shoulder holster and placed it very gently on the floor. Then she shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch; her mother's voice ringing in her ear about properly hanging up a coat instead of acting like a savage. She ignored it as she dug through the little pouch on the holster, and pulled out the little vile. She couldn't help but feel a little underwhelmed. Everything she went through tonight, sitting for hours in the cold and almost getting ripped apart all accumulated to this tiny vile full of white, thin liquid. _I wonder what normal people do on a Tuesday night_, she thought and made her way down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

"Yeah, it's just me," she said quietly, and tried to keep the sarcasm that was bubbling just under the surface out of her tone. _It's four in the morning, who else would it be for Christ's sake_, she thought but kept those words to herself. She couldn't be too hard on Rachel. The woman had probably been up all night, and if it was another bad night she would be just as exhausted if not more so. Bad nights usually consisted of violent out bursts, night terrors, and once even some hallucinations, but those seemed to be a onetime thing. At least, Quinn prayed they remained that way.

"Rough night?" Rachel asked eyeing Quinn's appearance the way she always did now. The first couple of times her roommate came home looking like this, clothes ripped and bloodied, sweat and dirt dried to her skin, and so exhausted she could barely stand, Rachel had panicked. The mother hen in her had completely taken over; rushing around trying to clean her friend up, helping her out of her destroyed clothes and running a hot bath, even going as far as making her chicken noodle soup along with a can of _7 Up_. Now this was becoming normal, and although her tone of voice conveyed concern she no longer freaked out.

"Worse than last night, better than the night before that," she said and lifted her shirt just enough to display the claw marks. Thanks to the ointment they looked faded, and almost completely healed. Just four thin lines that had scabbed over, and Rachel had to squint a little to really see what they were. "Almost got gutted so at least I can say I experienced something new." She tried to keep her tone light, tried to make a joke out of the whole thing, but she could tell just by the expression on Rachel's face that a major break down was about to take place. "So how was he tonight?" Hopefully changing the subject would stave off a panic attack.

"He was fine," Rachel replied, but she couldn't meet Quinn's eyes, and she had that guilty look on her face. To anyone else it wouldn't be obvious, but the two had been friends since sophomore year of college, and Quinn knew exactly what that expression meant. She didn't say anything, she didn't have to. She just waited, letting the silence become thick with tension, keeping her eyes on her roommate as she squirmed under the unrelenting gaze. After a minute or so of this Rachel finally let out a little sigh and ran a hand through her long brown hair.

"It was a pretty bad night," she said, her whole body slumped forward, showing just how exhausted she really was. "He's calm now, but he screamed his head off for a while, and kept scratching his chest and stomach. He said it felt like bugs were crawling under his skin. I had…I had to tie his hands down because he was starting to make himself bleed." Tears swelled up in her deep brown eyes, and her lips trembled as the memories of the last few hours ran rampant through her mind's eye.

Quinn glanced at the door Rachel was standing in front of, and she couldn't help but notice her friend's body language. Even completely drained both physically and emotionally she was still standing right in front of it, her shoulders squared, and feet shoulder width apart. It looked as though she was guarding the door even from the one person she knew could be trusted more than anyone else on the planet. _Rachel Berry, protector of one and all_, she thought and watched as her friend took a breath and reigned in her wayward emotions.

"Well, hopefully this will help," Quinn said, and held up the small vile for her friend to see. Rachel nodded her head, but she looked skeptical. Quinn couldn't blame her at this point. This was the eighth little vile of liquid she had come home with that would supposedly make things easier. None of them ever did. But it was all trial and error until they found _the_ one that would finally cure whatever it was, or at least make the symptoms tolerable, and there was no way Quinn was giving up hope. Giving up was not an option, and Rachel understood, which is why she kept her mouth shut and aimed her skepticism at the floor.

"I hate to ask, but can you come in with me? Just in case something happens like last time," she said, her voice catching with a mixture of exhaustion and the emotions that welled up in her chest at just the thought of what happened in that room just five nights ago. She tried really hard to keep it out of her mind, but it wasn't easy, especially when she was this tired. She could still hear the screams of anger bouncing around in her skull like a pinball, and swore she could feel the ghost of sharp fingernails digging into her skin, aimed at her eyes. Lucky for her they missed, but she was left with three deep scratches running from her cheek right below her eye to the bridge of her nose, and she had no doubt they would scar once completely healed.

"Yeah, that's definitely a good idea," Rachel said in a low voice, snapping Quinn out of the memory. She took a deep breath, imagining that memory and all of the awful feelings that occurred whenever she thought of it, was put inside a heavy metal box, looked up tight with no way of escape, and then she buried them as deep as she possibly could. She knew it was only a temporary solution, but at the moment she was just too drained to care.

She stepped passed Rachel and very slowly opened the door. It was dark except for the nightlight plugged into the wall beside the bed, and the light now shining in from the hallway. She took a moment to just watch before her presence became known. She saw the body on the bed struggling against the restraints, and tears immediately swelled in her eyes. Even in the soft light leaking in from the hall she could see the scratches and bruises on his torso. She quickly cupped a hand over her mouth as her lips quivered, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

Rachel's reaction earlier had not been an exaggeration. The marks were so severe it almost looked like someone had taken a grater and pulled it across his chest. The scratch marks on his stomach were not as deep, but the bruises were darker and larger. A wave of nausea settled in the pit of her stomach as she took in the sight. Even though she had been told what happened, she still felt completely unprepared. Deep down she knew there was no real way to prepare for something like this. Even if Rachel had gone into detail, seeing is way different than hearing, and seeing this felt like being punched in the chest.

"Mommy?" the tiny voice whispered from across the room. The small boy stopped squirming in the lambskin cuffs, and looked over at his mother in the doorway, watching him with a horrified expression on her face. He'd seen that look on people before, normally moments before they threw up. He took in the sight of his mother: clothes stained with blood and something blue, the skin on her face and neck was dirty, and she smelled awful. She was crying, but she did that a lot these days so he wasn't as affected by it.

His tiny body filled with anxiety when he saw the rips in her shirt. Rips meant she had been hurt, and the last time she had been hurt she nearly bled to death. He hadn't seen it, didn't know it had happened until after the fact when he overheard his mother and Rachel arguing about it. He didn't know exactly what all of it meant, but his seven year old mind did know that when people die they don't come back.

"Mommy, is it bad?" he asked, his voice cracking as he tried really hard not to cry. It hurt to talk, though. He had screamed uncontrollably for hours when the crawling sensation started, and his voice box was now raw as if rubbed down with sandpaper. At first he screamed because the itching wouldn't stop, and he felt like he was going mad. Then he screamed in pain as his fingernails dug into his skin in a desperate attempt to rip out whatever was causing the feeling of insects crawling under his skin. Then he screamed in anger when Rachel tied him down, and there was nothing he could do but wait for the episode to pass. The whole event lasted four hours; for both parties it felt like a week had gone by.

"No, sweetie, it's nothing," she said. Hearing his voice seemed to snap her out of the stunned silence, and she walked quickly to the bed. She wiped the tears from her face as she sat down, her eyes skimming over the abused flesh, drinking in everything that had been done. She knew without a doubt which ones were deep enough to scar and which ones would heal and disappear forever. She had witnessed plenty of nights when her son had bad episodes, but this set the bar to a whole new level. Seeing this made her wish for the nights he would simply lose control, and scream obscenities and trash his room.

"God, Martie," she choked out, and reached down to touch his battered skin, but stopped centimeters away from his body. She just couldn't force herself to touch him out of fear of causing more pain. She wanted to run her fingers smoothly across his skin to bring him the comfort a parent can give their child through physicality, but her hands remained hovering above him, trembling with conflict. She mentally chastised herself for not insisting on taking more of the healing salve. _He's getting worse not better, you freaking moron_, she thought, and swallowed thickly as her eyes burned with more tears.

"Mommy, my arms hurt," he whined, his voice sounded rough, and it cut her like shards of glass. She heard Rachel walk up behind her, and she tensed for a moment when a hand was placed on her shoulder. Rachel squeezed for a few seconds, offering her friend comfort. Quinn took in a deep breath, and tried as hard as she could to push her emotions down when Martie started to squirm again. This is the real reason she needed Rachel in here with her. If it wasn't for her friend standing there with her quiet strength she would have ripped the cuffs off of him already, and scooped him up into her arms.

"I know they do," she said, her voice shaky, but she forced herself to remain strong. It was hard when he was looking up at her with those big, hazel eyes with an expression on his face of sheer misery. "Do you still feel itchy?" The question seemed to confuse him for a second, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he mulled over her words. She wasn't going to give him the reason for asking. If whatever caused the itching was so strong he had to be tied down then she had no doubt he would lie in order to get the cuffs off to continue scratching.

"No, Mom, I don't," he said, and she wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. She let out another small sigh, and she sounded just as drained as she felt. She held up the little vile, and his eye immediately snapped to it. Though not all of the medicine his mother had given him lately was bad, three of them were so awful they burned his mouth and throat, and made him shake until he broke out in a cold sweat. When he cried his mother held him and apologized, but said he had to take it because it might make his illness go away and he could finally be healthy.

"I need you to take this," she said, the words left a foul taste on her tongue. She tried not to let that show in her expression, or he might pick up on the weakness and use it against her like any other seven-year-old would. "And then I'll untie your wrists, ok?" He lay there, completely still, his eyes unfocused as he weighed the options she had given him. She tried as hard as she could to keep it together and stand her ground. Another small squeeze from Rachel helped her, and she released yet another shaky breath. _Most kids only have to make the decision to clean their rooms or be stuck inside all day. This is bullshit_, she thought angrily, and looked down at his bed sheets. She didn't want him misinterpreting her anger, and thinking she was mad at him instead of the situation.

"Is it gonna hurt?" he whispered, and she sucked in a deep breath. His words felt like a punch to the chest. A silent tension settled over the room, wrapping its fingers around all of them, making the hair on the backs of their necks stand on end. Quinn wanted to tell him it would be fine, wanted to tell him that it wouldn't be like those three that brought him so much pain and misery that he didn't talk to or even look at her for two whole days afterwards. She wanted to, but when she opened her mouth to speak nothing came out. She just couldn't tell that blatant of a lie right to his face, even if it was the right thing to do.

"We don't know, buddy," Rachel said, stepping up when Quinn couldn't. That was starting to become a common theme in their apartment. Martie eyed her warily, and squirmed against the restraints. "But if it helps you get better, wouldn't it be worth it?" The expression on his face morphed into a look that suggested he was thinking, _are you crazy_? Quinn couldn't help but agree. "Remember when you learned how to ride your bike without the training wheels?" She waited for him to nod his head before she continued.

"And remember you fell a bunch of times, and scraped your knees and elbows and it hurt really bad, but it was worth it because now you can ride your bike like a big boy?" He avoided eye contact with her because he knew she was right, but didn't want to admit it. After a few silent moments he finally caved, and nodded his head again. "So if this medicine can make you all better wouldn't it be worth trying even if it does hurt really bad for a little while?" Martie inhaled a huge breath, his chest rose as high as it could go, and he let it out in one fast exhale.

"Ok, Rae," his said, his voice cracking slightly and he looked her right in the eyes. "I'll try it." Quinn had to bite the insides of her cheeks in a desperate attempt to keep the smirk off of her face. The three things her friend hates the most in this world are: white chocolate, hammer head sharks, and being called Rae. Martie was aware of all three, especially the nickname.

"Martie, I'm going to help you sit up, alright?" Quinn said. He nodded his head, and a small barely noticeable smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He just said the one thing that always sent his god-mother into a rage, and he didn't get in trouble. But then his mother gave him a look that he knew all too well. It was her 'stop pushing before you get yours' expression, and his smile was replaced by his patented pout that almost never failed to make that look on her face go away. It was ignored, and he released a small indignant huff.

Quinn very carefully handed the vile to Rachel. The last thing she needed was to drop it on the floor and have it break, wasting an entire night's worth of work, and having a near death experience be for not. She then gently put her hands on Martie's underarms and lifted him up while scooting him towards the head of the bed at the same time. He pushed against the mattress with the heels of his feet, making the process easier for both of them. The fact that they did this in silence, that helping him lean against the bed frame while tied to it was becoming a common occurrence, made her want to cry.

"Alright, buddy, try to get it all down in one swallow, ok?" she told him once he was as comfortable as he could get in the somewhat awkward position. She took the vile back from Rachel, carefully took off the lid, and held it up to his lips. With the pained expression most children get while taking cough medicine, he tried hard not to gag as his mother slowly poured the thin, white liquid into his mouth. His body shivered at the nasty taste, but he forced it down his throat. When it was finally gone, Quinn dropped the tiny glass container onto the bedside table, and waited; her body tense with anticipation.

The sour expression remained on his face, and she wished she could give him a glass of water or fruit juice to wash out the aftertaste, but she was told not to do that. If the medicine was diluted it wouldn't work, and she did not want to hunt down another one of those creatures if she could help it. Her baby would sadly have to wait until his taste buds were free from the flavor naturally, or wait a couple of hours until it was safe for him to drink something, depending on how long it stuck around.

She took him by the hand, and watched him closely. So far, so good. He looked normal, besides the obvious. When he had the negative reactions before, they happened immediately after he swallowed them down, and the burning lasted for two hours. It had felt like days as he cried and screamed in pain. She remembered very vividly asking him to forgive her, and praying for God to make it end soon, while at the same time explaining it was for the best. _I wonder how much therapy is going to cost when he's old enough to process all of this_, she thought, and softly stroked her thumb over the back of his hand.

"Do you feel ok?" she asked, afraid to move, afraid to breathe as she waited for the answer. His reply was a simple nod of his head followed by a huge yawn. The dark bags under his eyes, and the sickly color of his skin showed just how tired he was from days without sleep. However, it looked like he was going to be able to do just that. Relief washed over her despite the little voice in the back of her head that kept screaming at her not to get her hopes up, that when he was about to doze off is when another episode always hit. That voice was a dick. She decided to name it Larry.

"Mommy, can you take these off now?" he whispered, his eyes half lidded, and his head lulled to the side. Instead of answering verbally, Quinn carefully took the cuffs off his wrists, and untied them from the bed frame. She dropped them to the floor, and very gently took him in her arms and lifted him off the bed just enough to place him under his comforter, which was a dark navy blue, and was covered with a picture of the solar system. He wiggled around until he was comfortable, and the hours of agony that left him drained finally won out, and he drifted off without another word.

Mother and god-mother took their turns tucking him in and giving him kisses on the side of his head. Quinn picked up the discarded items, and with one last look at the sleeping boy, the two quietly left the room. They stood out in the hallway taking a moment to just breathe. Quinn felt awkward standing there in the silence. For some reason she felt pressure to say something, but whenever she tried the words evaded her. She just hoped she didn't look as uncomfortable as she felt. The last thing she needed was her friend reading too much into it.

"Fighting that thing tonight," Rachel said, and gently tugged on the hem of Quinn's ripped shirt. "That was brave of you." Quinn stood there, studying her face, unsure of how to respond. The need for sleep made her mind feel clouded, and everything around her seemed muddled. She could hear the layers in her tone, practically feel the intention pouring off the other woman, and it made her feel even more exhausted. After a few moments of consideration she finally shook her head in disagreement.

"I'm not brave, I'm desperate. There's a difference," she said with an edge to her voice that had been unintended. Rachel released her shirt as if the words had burned, and she took a step back, out of Quinn's personal space. The look in her eyes was all too familiar, and neither one of them addressed it or the tension it caused. Instead, she glanced over at Martie's bedroom door, deciding to overlook the harsh remark, and a soft smile made its way onto her face as she thought about her god-son.

"Well, either way, I think he's finally going to get some sleep tonight," she said, and looked back at her friend. She tried to be subtle as she took in her appearance. She had to hold back a little sigh that wanted to escape because there was simply no nice way to putting it: Quinn looked like crap. The bags under her eyes were so big they threatened to fall off her face, plus the combination of ripped clothing, and dirt and sweat stained skin made her look like she had been homeless for a few weeks.

"You should rest. I'll stay up for a while longer in case he needs anything," she offered, and held back a groan of frustration when Quinn immediately shook her head no. Her friend could be one of the most stubborn creatures on the planet sometimes, and it was very hard to deal with at the best of times. Right now, Rachel decided not to say anything about it because she knew from experience that pushing the issue while they were both exhausted was practically begging to start an argument.

"Thanks, but that's alright. I have to be at work in…" she glanced down at her watch, and a very unhappy groan reverberated in her throat. Her heart felt like it had sunk into the bottom of her stomach at the knowledge of how little time she had left. "Three hours. There's no freakin point going to bed now. I'm just going to grab a shower, maybe figure out how to consume caffeine intravenously." She chuckled at her own joke, but Rachel's expression remained serious.

"You think you're funny, but you're not," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. When she changed her expression to her well practiced resolve-face, Quinn knew the tension that was growing was not going to be stopped with humor. She was not, however, about to have the conversation about her working too hard. She barely got through it last time and her mind had been at full capacity.

"I'm a total laugh riot, you're just too tired to notice," she said, ignoring the way Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's late, why don't you go to bed before you pass out in my hallway?" That got the reaction she was looking for, and she had to concentrate very hard to repress the little smirk that tugged at her lips. The brunette's eyebrows furrowed, and she looked a little confused. Her expression became hard, somewhat defensive, and the concern for Quinn's health went to the back of her mind.

"It's my hallway too," she said, her tone flat and even. Quinn had to bite the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from smiling. If she did that it would all be over. Rachel only used that tone of voice when she was trying to figure out where the conversation was going, but couldn't. Quinn raised both her eyebrows, and got a very surprised look on her face. She just hoped her acting skills were as good as she thought they were, otherwise Rachel would not be so forgiving.

"Oh, so you paid your half of the rent this month?" she asked, her voice laced with mischief. She knew that the only reason she was getting away with steering the conversation away from herself was the state of exhaustion the other woman was in. Normally Rachel never let her get away with this type of deflection, but right now her mind was weak and Quinn had the decency to feel a little bad about taking advantage of it. But it was either turn it around on Rachel or have to suffer through another lecture about how she was sending herself to an early grave by working so much. Both at her job, and her off the clock activities.

"Fine, I'll get out of your hallway," she responded, putting her hands up in front of her in a show of surrender. Then she said, "Goodnight, see you in the morning," and leaned forward to give Quinn a quick kiss on the cheek. Before Quinn could respond, Rachel slipped into the room on the right side of the hallway, and disappeared from sight as she shut the door behind her. Quinn watched her go, and gave a slight shake of her head. If she hadn't been so tired she would have had some witty response to the kiss; if she hadn't been so tired she would have questioned her friend's motives in a joking manner; if she hadn't been so tired maybe her thoughts would have been able to go beyond: _work is going to suck today_. If, if, if.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is the last chapter that I had (partially) typed up and simply needed to be revised. So updates are going to be a little slower after this. Hope everyone who is sticking with this is enjoying it. Let me know what you think.**

* * *

About twenty minutes after she had fallen asleep, she was startled awake. Her heart pounded in her chest making a roaring sound in her ears, and there was a light sheen of sweat covering her whole body. Her subconscious had reacted to something in the room that wasn't there before. No, not something; someone. She could feel the presence of someone else, and when she rolled over, looking towards the side of the room where the door lived, she could see a silhouette. It was too tall to be Martie – possibly sneaking in to sleep with Mom after a nightmare – and while he had more of wheeze these days from the constant episodes, this person had a very strong, steady breath that could be heard even from across the room.

There was only one person it could be, and even Quinn's sleep muddled mind knew this probably wasn't a good idea. Indecision flowed through her veins, knotting every muscle and organ as she worried her bottom lip. This wouldn't have been the first time something like this happened between them. They were in an almost ever revolving on again off again…thing, for lack of a better term, for the last part of two years. She was sure that the only thing that allowed them to behave peacefully towards one another was their ability to set aside all of their potential drama, and be there when it really counted. _And working a part time job plus hunting down those creatures at night doesn't hurt either_, she thought, and wiped at her sleep filled eyes.

She scooted on the bed, moving from the middle where she preferred to sleep because of all the leg room, and to the side of the bed farther away from the door. She pulled the covers back a little, not enough to expose her own body to the cool night air, but enough to send a very clear message: either join me or get out. She stared at the silhouette, the figure becoming more visible as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, for what felt like forever. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe this wasn't an attempt to get closer, to gain some sort of comfort in the dark, but something even more serious and she was too exhausted to see the obvious.

She didn't have to wait long for a response to those silent anxieties. Only seconds after she had pulled the comforter back, the empty space next to her was filled with heat and an all too familiar combination of scents. She let out a small content sigh as the smell of apples – the hair conditioner , lavender – the body lotion, and a unique scent of skin and pheromones that she couldn't quite name, but it still managed to spread an all too welcomed warmth throughout her body, settling in areas she would rather ignore.

"I thought you weren't going to go to sleep," Rachel said into the dark, and Quinn could hear the smile in her voice. She ignored the first thing that came to mind as she rolled over onto her side and stretched the stiffness out of her back. Saying something rude and biting wouldn't be fair, even though the petulant child within wanted to throw a verbal temper tantrum for being woken up after getting so little sleep.

"I didn't mean to," she said around and yawn, and rubbed the last of the haze out of her eyes. There would be no point going back to sleep now. "All of that crap finally caught up with me in the shower and I think I just collapsed when I came in here." Her eyes went a little wide and her hand immediately went to her hair. She ran her fingers through the honey colored strands, and she cringed when she felt the texture. Since she hadn't taken the time to comb or blow dry it before crawling into bed, it was wavy and frizzy, and she groaned. Fixing that mess before work was not going to be fun.

"It looks that way," Rachel said, and Quinn's muscles tensed a little when she heard the flirty tone of voice. Rachel put a hand on the other woman's stomach, and Quinn's eyes went wide as she finally became painfully aware of just how naked she was. She had slipped on some sleep shorts, intending to put on an undershirt as well, but the exhaustion had been too strong to ignore; her bed calling with a siren song. She placed a hand on the wrist of the one burning into her skin, but she made no move to push it away.

"I have to be at work soon," she said, her voice sounding weak and breathy. Her body betrayed her words as her fingers started softly grazing the skin of Rachel's forearm. She bit back the small smile when she felt the soft flesh erupt in goose bumps, and felt the bed quake as a shiver went through the brunette's body. She watched Rachel's face turn a little as she glanced over to something on the other side of the bed. Then she looked back, her brown eyes almost invisible in the darkness.

"We still have an hour," she whispered, and slowly shifted closer to Quinn, watching her face carefully for any signs of rejection. She lightly grazed her thumb along the spot of her friend's stomach where her hand rested. It caused Quinn to swallow thickly, and Rachel could have sworn she saw her throat muscles contract even in the pre-dawn night.

"I'll-I'll have to get another shower. I don't have time, I'll be late for work," she said and her tone sounded even softer than before, void of any conviction. Rachel smiled as she nuzzled Quinn's neck. She left a few soft kisses along the column of her throat, and let her lips linger so she could _feel_ the muscles contract as Quinn swallowed hard, trying in spite to control her body's reaction. She let her lips softly graze against the shell of the other woman's ear, and smiled at the tiny shudder that quickly moved down Quinn's spine.

"You won't be late if I give you a ride," she whispered, leaving a small kiss just behind Quinn's earlobe. "Or you could always take a French bath like we used to in college five minutes before class. You know, relive the glory days." She pressed her body up against the other, and Quinn instantly responded to her. She grabbed at her in the dark; one hand settled on Rachel's hip, the fingers tight, holding her in place. She held onto the hand not currently teasing the skin of her stomach. Rachel laced their fingers together as she gently nibbled on the shell of Quinn's ear.

"Shit, I'm out of reasons not to do this," Quinn said, her voice shaky as she started running her hand up and down Rachel's side, from her hip to the side of her breast and back down. She felt more than she heard the quiet rumble of laughter in Rachel's chest. Her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance at being laughed at. On the next trip of her hand, she let her thumb gently stroke over an already hard nipple, and she pinched a little harder than she knew the other woman liked. She smiled victoriously when the brunette hissed in a breath and moved her body more firmly against Quinn's.

"You're kind of a brat sometimes. Has anyone ever told you that?" the brunette whispered, the sound of her smile laced her tone as she began kissing her way down Quinn's throat, moving very slowly towards her chest. They didn't have a lot of time, she was very well aware of that, but the time restriction would just have to step off. There was no way she wasn't going to tease at least a little bit.

"Every time we share a bed," she said around a shaky breath as Rachel sucked and kissed at the skin on her collar bones. She sucked in a deep breath of surprise as the hand that had been teasing her stomach and ribs suddenly moved to her sleep shorts. Blunt nails lightly scratched her mons, and her muscles tensed, her breathing grew heavy and shallow as she waited for the other woman to finally put her out of her misery.

The seconds felt like hours as that warm, soft mouth reached her breasts and toyed with her painfully hard nipples. She never spent too long on one before moving to the other, and Quinn's fingers tightened around Rachel's as her eyes drifted shut. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, and her heartbeat began to pound in her ears. She wanted to scream, or cry, or both when Rachel tugged on her earlobe with her teeth while at the same time slowly inched her fingertips lower, but still not where Quinn needed them most.

"Rachel, I swear…." she said through gritted teeth. She canted her hips, and lifted one leg, tenting the sheet as she tried to maneuver those taunting fingers where she needed them to be. As if saying a magic word, Rachel smiled against the skin of her breast and moved those last few centimeters, and Quinn's body broke out in a light sweat as she bit her lip to stop any noise from coming out. The last thing she needed was a seven year old interruption. She would probably murder someone if she had to carry on with the rest of her day feeling like this.

"Is that better?" Rachel whispered against her ear, mockingly, and all she could do was nod as her hips began to rock steadily, with purpose, using the heel of her foot against the mattress as leverage. Her brow furrowed as she tuned everything out, and just focused on feeling. She gasped as Rachel's fingers worked their way through liquid heat, finding the nerves that set the rest of her body on fire. Rachel knew exactly where to touch, exactly how much pressure to use, and when to ease up; letting her fingertips barely rest against slick skin until that small whiney noise reverberated at the back of Quinn's throat and she continued. It almost wasn't fair how well Rachel knew her.

Her muscles coiled, and something deep inside her belly tightened as her breathing became so shallow spots speckled behind her eyelids. Her hips ground against Rachel's fingers, and those lips continued to tease, her teeth nipping that little spot behind her ear that always got her there. The hand on Rachel's hip – nails digging in so sharply they left impressions in the skin – and reached for the blanket. She bunched the fabric in her fist, using it to keep her feeling grounded amid an onslaught of sensation.

"Oh shit," she cried in a rough voice, her jaw falling open as her muscles convulsed when her nerve endings exploded. Fire scorched through her veins, but seconds later was replaced with a cold tingly feeling that tickled the bottoms of her feet. She squeezed Rachel's hand tighter, feeling as if she would float away completely if she didn't hold on for dear life. The tension that had built up in her body over the last few weeks completely unraveled, and she couldn't stop the soft laughter that bubbled up in her chest. She opened her eyes, a smile taking over her face, when she felt Rachel leave soft kisses on her cheek. Brown eyes met hazel, and a relaxed silence settled between them as they simply stared.

"Good morning," Rachel said, breaking the silence. She was smiling softly at the other woman, reveling in the feel of soft skin, and of being cocooned away from the rest of the world. She bit her bottom lip to hold back the laugh that wanted to escape at the dopey look on Quinn's face.

"G'morning," she replied with a breathy giggle. Her eyelids felt heavy and refused to stay open for long. The smile on her face only got bigger when she felt Rachel let go of her hand, and ran her fingers gently through her dark hair, blunt nails gently scratching along her scalp. A noise that sounded very much like a purr reverberated in the back of her throat, and her body practically melted into the bed. "That feels good." She heard Rachel laugh, and her eyes opened in curiosity.

"You always like having your hair played with, especially after something like that" she said, her other hand slipped out of the cotton sleep shorts, and rested on the bed. She left another kiss on Quinn's delicate neck, and considered leaving a small hickey. Even though she thought they were extremely tacky, she couldn't deny how much she wanted to see a small love bite on the other woman's neck. Nothing big or over the top, just a small red and purple bruise on her neck right below her ear. She knew Quinn well enough to know just how much she would freak out if she did something like that.

"Not that I'm complaining," Quinn said and opened her eyes. They were still kind of glazed over, and she had a hard time focusing, especially since Rachel was peppering her neck with little kisses. It sent shivers down her spine that caused her toes her curl. "But what exactly was _that_ for? It's not my birthday, is it?" They both laughed a little, and Rachel gently nipped Quinn's ear. The blonde jumped at the unexpected pain, but laughed it off when the other woman gently kissed the sensitive skin.

"You've just been so stressed out lately," Rachel said, and sat up just enough to see Quinn's face. "And, I dunno, I just wanted to help you relax a little, and what's more relaxing than a rush of serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins?" She wouldn't meet Quinn's eyes, and the blonde couldn't help but notice how nervous Rachel suddenly looked. It was pretty obvious, and hard to miss. She gently brushed some of Rachel's hair out of her face, and softly caressed her cheek with her fingertips.

"Hey, everything fine between us, ok? You know I love it when you sneak attack me like that. If I didn't I think I would have said something back in sophomore year the first time you did it," she said with a small laugh, and couldn't help but smile wider when she saw the blush bloom on Rachel's face. Warm brown eyes finally met her own shining hazel, and the other woman had a small, bashful smile on her face.

A devilish smile curled on Quinn's lips and she slowly trailed her hand along Rachel's body until it was resting on the small hip, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. She played with the hem of Rachel's pj bottoms, and smiled a little wider when Rachel squirmed. "And you know I love helping you relax too." Her voice had dropped an octave, but instead of slipping her hand where she really wanted it to be, she frowned in confusion when Rachel shook her head no. Quinn continued to softly caress the skin between Rachel's pj bottoms and undershirt with her fingers, but didn't move her hand from its spot. "What's wrong? Don't you want me to?"

"I do," Rachel said, avoiding eye contact. "But you know how weird my body can be sometimes, and its been like that lately." Quinn remained silent as her mind wandered back to those long nights spent in their dorm room at Yale. Rachel would always stress out over every test or quiz, and Quinn often offered to help distract her. She knew from experience that it wasn't Rachel's body that prevented her from reaching a climax. No, there was something heavy weighing on her mind that she just couldn't let go.

"Hey," she said softly, and Rachel eyes lifted back to hers. She looked a little sad, and worried. Quinn knew that look all too well; disappointment mixed with a fear of being judged. She brought her hand up to gently caress the brunette's cheek in an effort to bring her some comfort. By the way the other woman's muscles immediately relaxed, she hoped she was doing just that. "If there's anything you want to talk about I'm here, ok? I know things have been crazy with all this new stuff I have going on, but you're still one of the most important people to me. I'll always make time if you need someone to talk to." The room fell into silence, and Quinn let out a long sigh

Quinn watched Rachel's face as the brunette seemed to study her own. This type of thing had only happened a couple of times; Rachel looking at her like she was trying to burn everything into her brain after an intimate moment between them, but she hadn't done so since college. She ignored her internal clock screaming at her that if she didn't get up now than her whole day would be spent playing catch up, and let her friend have this moment since she was completely lost for what to do. Rachel never opened up about what she thought about when things like this happened, and Quinn didn't feel the need to question it. She felt too relaxed, too sleepy and spoiled from the attention to ruin this feeling.

Then Rachel's eyes became half lidded, and she started to lean towards her. That small move felt like a bucket of ice water being thrown down her back. Before Rachel could get too close, she sat up, gently pushing the other woman away, and her body tensed as the blankets pooled around her hips, exposing her body to the cold morning air. She sat there for a moment feeling stunned and stared at some random spot across the room. She felt as though her back was about to break with the amount of effort she was using to avoid looking at the other woman's face. She could feel those brown eyes boring into her skin, leaving hot pinpricks in their wake.

"I need to get Martie ready for daycare," she said after what felt like hours. She heard Rachel take in a long, sharp breath, but still avoided looking at her. She didn't think she would be able to stomach what she would undoubtedly see; the hurt and confusion, probably anger as well. She stood up from the bed and tried as hard as she could to ignore the stinging bite of winter's cold teeth gnawing at her bare flesh as she walked to the dresser and pulled on a baggy t-shirt, and slipped on some dark blue pajama bottoms. She threw her hair back in a messy ponytail and tried as hard as she could to ignore Rachel's reflection in the mirror above her dresser.

"I'm going to be late getting home. Do you think you could pick Martie up for me? I know it's a pain, but I have to go see Syndri after work," she said, and bit the insides of her cheeks when she heard Rachel snort. She knew she deserved that, but the urge to be snippy was right there on the surface. She swallowed it down as she turned to face the door. She still couldn't force her eyes to the woman still sitting in her bed. She had a feeling she should probably burn the sheets later, just in case this came back to haunt her.

"Yeah, I can do that," she said, her voice tight with barely restrained anger that felt like it was pouring off of her in waves. "I'll take him to dinner afterwards. Think you can pick up some groceries before you get home?" She didn't wait for an answer before she got up and stalked across the room. Quinn watched out of the corner of her eye as Rachel stormed out with as much control as she could muster. She braced herself for the sound of the slamming door, but it never came, and she let out a small relieved sigh. _Guess she doesn't want Martie to know anything is wrong_, she thought and rubbed her face with both her hands. _What is wrong with me? I can fight monsters but emotional intimacy is too big and scary? God, I am such a bad cliché_.


	4. Chapter 4

_I will not look at the clock, I will not look at the clock, I will not look at the clock_, Quinn thought as she sat on the cold, cement floor of the basement of Weston and York. She was surrounded by files that were overstuffed with white copy paper, littered with black ink. She picked up each file, looked at the color coding on the label, and put the file in one of three plastic tubs depending on the color. She had been at this for forty-five minutes, but it might as well have been an eternity. She wasn't sure how she had managed it, but she had a little paper cut on her thumb that was driving her absolutely crazy.

"I have bills to pay," she said as she picked up a file with the red coding, and put it in tub number two. "I have bills to pay, a seven-year-old and a roommate to feed, and there is no way I can afford to quit this job." Her words, even though they were whispered, still managed to echo softly throughout the small space. "It could be worse. I could be claustrophobic and afraid of being buried under all of this crap." When she heard the quiet sounds of footsteps walking down the hall and towards the room she was working in, the door left wide open to avoid running out of air, she didn't bother looking up.

Instead, she rolled her eyes and tried to look as if she were really concentrating on the files. She even went as far as opening up the one in her hand - yellow would go in tub number one - and looked over some of the papers. She hoped that if she looked busy enough she would be able to avoid what was about to happen. She had a feeling deep down that her acting was in vain, and she tried as hard as she could not to look irritated.

"Good morning, Quinn," she heard from the doorway, but didn't look up. She didn't need to see who it was to know who was standing there, probably with that same puppy-dog smile and obnoxious bow-tie if experience had taught her anything.

"Quinn?" She placed the file in the tub and carefully picked another off the stack and pretended to look through some of the papers even though she could clearly see the green tag. "Can you hear me, Quinn? You're not listening to music on the job again, are you? Because the boss already chewed Stevenson out, and he won't go easy on you." The smell of stale coffee, printer ink, and spearmint gum filled her senses and she finally looked up. Sure enough, Tom was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed loosely over his chest with a small smile on his face, and a light blue bow-tie around his neck.

She smiled back. Her years of etiquette training from her mother wouldn't allow her to remain looking as sour as she felt. "Thanks for the warning, but I'm just concentrating. Need to get all of these files squared away by lunch so I can actually eat something today. I don't think the mints in my purse are going to cut it again," she said, and her eyes got a little wide in panic when she realized what just came out of her mouth. _Crap, he's probably going to ask me to join him. God, Quinn, get your shit together!_ she thought and placed the file in the third tub before carefully picking up another.

"That's a good goal to have," he said, a nervous laugh bubbled out of his throat, and he scratched the back of his neck. Quinn watched his face carefully, and she could see the little bit of tension crawling into the muscles of his cheeks, and she could tell that the smile on his face wasn't voluntary. _Dammit, dammit, dammit_, she thought and tried not to let her panic show. "I'm going to run to that little burger joint down the street. I could bring you back something if you want."

_Ok, not quite what I was expecting. Maybe he's finally starting to get the hint_. "You know, that sounds really great, but I've had a craving for sushi since last night. But thanks for the offer. That was really sweet of you," she told him and took a moment to give him her full attention. Her smile never wavered as she looked into his light blue eyes, and she felt a little guilty when she saw the disappointment clearly written on his face. _I don't owe him anything, he's just a guy I work with who has a crush on me so stop feeling bad about it,_ she scolded and picked up the next file.

"That's cool. I hate it when I get cravings like that. They drive me a little crazy sometimes," he said, and the tone of his voice had changed from ten seconds ago. He didn't sound like an enthusiastic boy hoping beyond all reason that today would be the day she would finally accept a lunch invitation. He sounded just as defeated as he looked, and Quinn felt a little sting even though she knew it was silly. "Maybe some other time, then."

"Yeah, maybe," she said, sounding a little distracted as she looked at the pile of files to her right. A small thrill went up her spine and spread through her entire body when she noticed that the next four files were all the same coding. _Ok, that is just sad. If I'm actually feeling excited about killing four birds with one stone and saving about five minutes, I need a freaking life._

"Um, Tom?" she said, sounding a bit sheepish. He looked over at her with a little confusion, but she couldn't blame him for that. "You know, I heard that eating raw fish can actually give you intestinal parasites. So, I think I will take you up on that offer." She watched as the confusion on his face very slowly morphed into happiness, and she could tell that he was trying to restrain himself. _He looks even more puppy-like than he normally does. Is this what hitting rock bottom feels like? Because I think I might have just crashed into it._

"Yeah, I heard that too. Plus all the mercury in the water, definitely not good for you," he said with that boyish smile on his face. The pure, raw enthusiasm rippling off of him filled the room, and when Quinn smiled back this time it wasn't fake or forced. "So, I'll pick up your usual, and bring it back at one." He looked around the room at all of the stacks surrounding her tiny body, and his smiled morphed from boyish and charming to mischievous. "Have fun with your filing. Try not to get smothered."

"I'll do my best. And remember, I don't like mayo!" she yelled after him as he walked down the hall. He waved his hand almost like an afterthought to let her know he had heard her. _Ok, I need to start eating somewhere else if he knows the food I normally order_, she thought, and let out an agitated sigh. _I cannot believe this is what my life has turned in to. Filing away corporate bullshit, and going to the same little burger joint every other day, and being flirted with by a twenty five year old who wears a bow-tie. I cannot believe I went to Yale for this._

"I believe that human wants to mate with you," a voice came out of nowhere.

"Holy shit!" Quinn squealed and jumped back. A huge stack of files just off to her right tumbled over, spilling their contents all over the floor. She looked over at the nightmare sitting on the cold concrete and groaned. "Why would you sneak up on me like that? It's going to take forever to put those back in the right order."

"Are all humans this melodramatic, or are you a special case?" the voice asked, and Quinn couldn't help but roll her eyes. She had to bite her tongue to refrain from making any jokes about how high pitched, and kind of nasal the voice sounded. Any Lollipop Guild references would end their working relationship in a heartbeat, and that's what stopped her from doing just that.

_If he thinks this is melodramatic, he's clearly never lived with an aspiring Broadway actress_, she thought and glanced around the empty room. In the quiet she could hear a faint buzzing sound, and as the seconds passed she could feel a sharp stinging sensation take hold across her forehead. Pressure started building behind her eyes, and she cringed. Magic was being used, and her body was having none of it.

"How are you doing that?" She gently massaged her temples trying as hard as she could to make the pain go away. _Great, just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse_. "Why are you doing that? I thought we agreed I would come see you tonight? Did something happen? Is Martie ok?" Panic grasped the back of her neck, causing the baby fine hairs to stand on end, and it felt like time stood still.

"Your offspring is fine." She breathed a huge sigh of relief, and her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. "I am using a charm to telepathically see and communicate with those in the room. I would have spoken sooner, but that male appeared and began a copulation ritual. I didn't want to interrupt should he be successful." She rolled her eyes, and began picking up the papers and neatly stacking them. It would take her days to figure out which papers were in what file since they were a mix of all three codes.

"It wasn't a copulation ritual. He was just asking if I wanted something to eat. We're just coworkers. He was being nice, that's all."

"Is it not customary for humans to eat together and engage in conversation before going back to one of your nests and engaging in mating activities?" She groaned and rubbed her forehead, feeling another sharp pain that had nothing to do with the magic being used.

"Sometimes we do that, yes, but not in this context. He was just being friendly since I'm going to be stuck in this basement for the next–" She looked at the papers still scattered, and let out a small sigh. "Three weeks, getting these files sorted out."

"You humans always do everything the hard way. I will never understand how you evolved to take over the planet." The buzzing sound grew louder as if a hive of bees were flying around her head. She watched as all of the papers on the floor started to glow and an uneasy feeling settled in her belly. Her eyes grew wide when they burned a bright gold color and then disappeared. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and her breathing stopped completely.

"What did you do?" she tried to scream, but it came out a harsh whisper.

"I'm simply offering you some assistance," the voice said, and three seconds later the stack returned to normal as if it had never been knocked over in the first place.

Relief rushed through Quinn's veins so quickly that she felt dizzy. Black spots dotted the perimeter of her vision, and she had to brace herself against the floor to stop from falling over. "Don't ever do something like that again without saying you're putting them back first. Ok?" She took in a few deep, calming breaths and looked around the room.

"Never mind that. I am contacting you because I just acquired some information about a Daimonas that is going to be in your area of the city tonight." She rolled her eyes and went back to organizing the files into their designated tubs.

"Maybe we should wait on that," she said, her voice strained as she picked her words very carefully. "Martie is doing better. That potion you made for him last night seems to be helping. Maybe we could wait a few days and see if he gets any better." Her ears felt like they were burning as she waited for a response.

"Would it not be better to be prepared? You say he seems better now, but what if this potion does not heal him completely? Deciding to put it off could prove to be deadly." His words sounded very calculated, and she knew deep down that most of that was constructed to manipulate her emotions. Most of what he did in general was a manipulation of her emotions and protective instincts.

"Yes, it would be better, but how do we know that this is going to work any better than the ones we've tried so far? All of them wear off after a couple of days. Why would this one be so special?" She tried to keep her frustration out of her voice, but it was in vain. She was tired, still upset with everything that happened with Rachel and scared out of her mind. Maybe I'm finally starting to go crazy, she thought and rubbed her face with both her hands. Shit, I'm wearing makeup. Now I probably look like road kill.

"This one would be special, as you say, Quinn, because this particular type of Daimonas only comes to the surface once every twenty years to feed and mate. Afterwards, the males die off, the females go back underground to birth their offspring, and once they have given birth they die off as well. The young do not resurface for another twenty years." Quinn's ears rang with those words, and she sucked in a deep breath. That did sound pretty special. Maybe this was just what they'd been waiting for.

"Where is it going to be?" she asked and worried her bottom lip. The potion she had given Martie last night was better than the others. There were no harsh side effects, it began working right away, he didn't have any nightmares, and when he woke up that morning he was actually well-rested and had energy to spare. He was bouncing around the apartment like he hadn't since he became sick. Quinn's heart had almost burst when she saw her son feeling like his old self.

"At the park closest to your nesting area," the voice echoed off the walls. The buzzing sound was beginning to get stronger. A steady and strong pressure started building behind Quinn's forehead. It felt as if her skull were about to crack at that spot, and she softly rubbed the area, hoping to ease the pain. "They need to feed on as much vegetation as they can find to be strong enough to compete for mates."

"Boomtown Park, ok," she said to engrain the information in her mind. "So what does this one look like?" She frantically looked around for a pen and saw one sitting high up on the desk that was pushed against the wall on the left side of the room. Getting up would mean risking knocking over the stacks that were surrounding her, and she bit her lip as she tried to think of the best way to get there without causing a disaster.

"I cannot describe it in detail at this time," the voice rang out, and Quinn groaned. _Just when I thought I'd be able to go home right after work instead of that smelly shop_, she thought and rubbed her temples. The buzzing sound was making the pain in her head worse, and she wasn't sure how long she would last without either going insane or passing out. "Some people just walked into the shop and I must assist them. Come here after you finish with your mating ritual."

"It wasn't a mating ritual!" she screamed, her voice echoed off the walls and bounced down the hallway. Her outburst was met with silence. The buzzing sound was gone, which meant that the spell was no longer being cast, and Syndri couldn't hear her. "One of these days I am going to kill that little blue weirdo, I swear. And now I'm talking to myself. I think working in a basement all day long is finally getting to me."


	5. Chapter 5

Quinn rubbed her tired, sore eyes as she walked into the apartment and covered up a big yawn. The work day was finally over, and the trip to Syndri's shop hadn't taken as long as she thought it would. That meant all she had to do was stay awake until eight-thirty when Martie had to be in bed, and she could take a quick nap before heading out, looking for the creature she needed to hunt down.

_Hopefully there won't be any surprises like last night_, she thought and hung her coat on the hook before making her way into the living room. She stopped when she spotted Martie and Rachel sitting at the small table that was shoved against the wall. Rachel was eating, and it looked like Martie was attempting to create some type of art with his meal. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned against the wall, too tired to hold herself upright, and watched the scene in front of her.

"Look, Rachel, it's a sandcastle," he said, and pointed to the mound of mashed potatoes sitting on his plate. Quinn watched Rachel's face carefully, and the weariness she saw in those brown eyes made something deep within her stomach clench and twist uncomfortably. _Let's just hope she's in a better mood now than she was this morning_, she thought and shook her head. _Wow, I sound like such an asshole. Maybe that should stay an inside thought._

"A sandcastle, huh? It doesn't look like a sandcastle. It just looks like potatoes to me," she replied, and the playful sound to her voice slowly eased the tension that had settled inside of Quinn. _Ok, so maybe she isn't as upset as I thought._

"Yes it does. Look, here's the moat, and that's a window, and those are the stairs to get to the courtyard," he said, and stabbed a large piece of pot roast and shoved it unceremoniously into his mouth. _I really need to teach him how to cut his food properly_, she thought and couldn't stop herself from smiling at the almost musical sound of his voice.

"I don't know, Martie, it still looks like just potatoes to me," Rachel said and gave him a little wink. Quinn noticed that her meal had barely been touched. It looked as if she had some of the vegetables and the rest of the plate was being ignored. She tried as hard as she could to push away the anxiety building in her mind at the sight of it, but it was difficult. _God, I hope she isn't backsliding. We really don't need junior year of college repeated. Again._

"You're just not looking at it the right way," he said, and scooped up a large bite of the white fluffy carbohydrates, destroying whatever image of a castle he had created. Quinn's breath hitched in her throat and tears filled her eyes. _Where the hell did he learn to say that from?_ she thought and covered her mouth when her lips began to quiver_. God, Martie, you might as well have drove a knife through my heart._

She knew it wasn't his fault, but those words, not just the actual words themselves, but his tone of voice and even the pattern in which he spoke had sounded so much like his father's. Quinn shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories as they came flooding back, but it was difficult. She was just too tired to fight, too worn down to keep them at bay. _Alright, time to get out of my freaking head. It's not a safe place to be right now._

"Hey, guys," she said, and cleared her throat when her voice cracked. The two looked up, Martie with a huge smile on his face, the corners of his mouth stained with gravy. Rachel, however, tried to look indifferent to the blonde's presence, but it came out looking more like annoyance.

"Mom, look," he said, looking up at her, his eyes hazel shining brightly. He pointed to the food on the table with the fork that had beef gravy dripping off the end and onto the scratched and worn wooden tabletop. He was so excited Quinn would have thought he had been given too much sugar before dinner, but she knew her roommate would never allow that. "Rachel let me get _Antonio's_, and she said-she said next weekend she'd take me to throw pots." He was practically bouncing in his chair with excitement.

Tears swelled up in Quinn's eyes, but she quickly wiped them away with a small sniffle. She smiled and ran her fingers through his shaggy dark hair. She silently prayed that he wouldn't notice the emotion threatening to pour out of her. The last thing she wanted was to spoil his good mood. He hadn't acted like this since he became ill, and seeing this was such a relief. _Maybe that potion last night really did the trick_, she thought, and quickly glanced away from his inquisitive expression that meant he knew something with her was off.

"That's really great, buddy. Did you thank Rachel for picking up your favorite?" she asked, trying to sound neutral. He nodded his head quickly while he chewed the bite of vegetables in his mouth. "When you finish your dinner, make sure to get started on your homework, ok? We don't want to leave it all until tomorrow night. I need to take a shower." She felt a little guilty for not sticking around, but seeing that look on Rachel's face – the stony exterior hiding a well of rage – was too much for her to deal with, especially since she was the reason for it.

Before she could go, Martie quickly grabbed onto her hand. "Mommy, no. Eat with us, please," he said, sticking out his bottom lip, and fluttering his eyelashes. _Oh, he has spent way too much time around Rachel, that's for damn sure_, she thought and let out a little sigh. "I haven't seen you all the day, and you're not smelly. You don't need a shower yet."

"You are getting way too good at that," she said, and wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He fidgeted a little, but had the common sense to sit still or risk his mother getting agitated and deciding to shower after all. "Alright, let me make myself a plate, and I'll eat with you." He smiled triumphantly, and turned back around in his seat.

Quinn chanced a glance over at Rachel, and the other woman was giving her a very specific look. It was the look Rachel always got on her face whenever Quinn let Martie manipulate her with pouts and sweet words. It was the "you're spoiling him rotten" look of irritation that the brunette had mastered over the years. Quinn bit back her annoyance and walked into the kitchen. The containers were still out on the counter, and the blonde took small helpings from each, not wanting to overdo it after having takeout for lunch as well. It was hard not to overdo it when eating _Antonio's_ pot roast.

"How was work?" Rachel asked as she walked into the kitchen as well. She pulled the plastic wrap out of the drawer, and Quinn watched as she carefully wrapped up her plate. They couldn't afford to let leftovers go to waste.

"It was work," she said simply and eyed the other woman with some suspicion and she hated herself for it. "You're not hungry?" She made sure to keep her tone of voice as even as possible, hoping that Rachel wouldn't misinterpret her question and get upset with her. Her eating habits were a very touchy subject between the two, and the last thing Quinn wanted was a fight to break out.

"No, not really. I had a late lunch with Gabe Corwell," she said, and her tone of voice that she was using meant she expected Quinn to recognize the name. When she glanced over at the other woman she tried not to let the blank look get to her. "He's the guy who wrote and produced _Street Lights and Bus Tickets_." Quinn continued to give her a blank look, and this time Rachel let some of her irritation show. "It was a one-act play that was performed in a little black box theater, but it got so much attention it's been rewritten into a three-act play, and it might even debut on Broadway."

"Wow, that's great. Are you going to audition for it?" she asked, and she knew it was a stupid question the moment she saw Rachel's face drop into a frown. She wanted to reach out and hug her friend, to try and bring her some comfort, but she wasn't sure if that was ok anymore. If she tried Rachel could accept the comfort and allow herself to be embraced, but if she was still really upset from this morning she could push Quinn away and things between them would get even tenser. She chose to remain still, too tired to deal with the dilemma.

"No. Part of the deal he made is the original actors get to keep playing their part. He wouldn't sell the play without that being in the contract since he did most of the casting himself," she said and put her plate in the refrigerator. Quinn watched as she went about putting away the plastic wrap and also stacking the containers of food neatly before putting them in the fridge as well. All of this she did with tensed shoulders, and she was going out of her way not to even look in the blonde's direction.

"So, is he working on a new project?" she asked, and again Rachel wouldn't look at her. The brunette just gave a simple "hmm?" in response, and Quinn set her plate down on the counter. She knew when Rachel was holding back; she was being really obvious about it right now – probably due from a lack of sleep – and Quinn didn't like the tension that was coiling in her belly at Rachel's behavior. "This lunch, were you two talking about signing on to do a project together?"

"No, it wasn't anything like that," she said and turned to face the blonde. She had a look on her face that Quinn wasn't too sure what to make of. It always looked like she was preparing herself to go to war. "It was just a friendly lunch." Her words didn't sound as sure as her expression, and Quinn's eyebrow quirked at the sound.

"A friendly lunch where you paid for your own meal?" she asked, her voice raising an octave. She wasn't sure if she wanted the answer to that question or not. Sure, things with her best friend were a little rocky at the moment due to her freak out this morning, but she didn't like where this was headed.

"No, he paid," Rachel said, and Quinn tensed, sucking in a deep breath. "It was a lunch date." Quinn bit her bottom lip and slowly nodded her head. _Ok, I'm not going to freak out. I have absolutely no right to freak out after the way I treated her this morning. She's an adult who can make her own decisions._ "I don't understand the big deal. We just had lunch; it's not like he asked me to marry him."

Quinn's eyes hardened. She couldn't tell Rachel what was running through her mind, not after the disaster she created. So instead she took in a small breath in hopes of calming her anger and said, "I just think it looks a little suspicious, is all. An aspiring Broadway actress starts dating a writer and producer right after he gains a little success. You can't deny that sounds pretty tacky." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted it. She wished she could reach into the ether and pull the words back into her face.

"I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood what you just said, but it sounds like you just accused me of sleeping with a producer to get a part, and I know my best friend would never say something so awful to me," she said, hands on her hips and eyes burning with rage. They were both well aware of the seven-year-old turned around in his seat, watching the two with wide eyes, and Rachel made sure to keep her voice down.

"I'm not saying that at all. I know you would never do something like that Rachel, but take just five minutes to think about how this looks from an outside perspective. I'm just worried about what everyone else is going to be thinking. Something like this could affect your future in the business," she said and wiped at her tired eyes.

"I don't care about how this looks to other people, ok? You know I've never cared about other people's opinions when I make decisions about my personal life. I do what makes me happy, and I shouldn't have to justify that to anyone but myself," she spat back, her voice full of anger, and Quinn couldn't think of a single thing to say. She knew that about the brunette; they had been best friends since college after all, and had no idea how to respond without sounding like more of an ass.

"So what the hell was all of that this morning, then?" Quinn asked and forced herself not to cringe on the outside. _Great job, Fabray. Bring that crap up and try to act like the victim. That's really going to fly_, she thought and resisted the urge to take a step back when the look in Rachel's eyes turned deadly.

"I don't know, Quinn. Why don't you tell me?" Rachel said and struggled to keep her voice down. She didn't want this to turn into a screaming match, even though all she wanted at that moment to get in Quinn's face and really let her have it. "Because it looked like I was reaching out, and you turned into a coward the second things got a little serious. So you have no right to judge me for accepting a lunch date with someone who could possibly give me what I need."

"Fine. Just don't bring him around the apartment. I don't want him around Martie," Quinn said and picked up her plate. She walked over to the table and sat down, knowing that Rachel wouldn't follow her or say anything now that Martie was in the direct line of fire. She listened as the other woman stomped off and slammed the door to her bedroom. _Rachel's right. I am a coward. I'm using my son to get out of a fight_, she thought and took a bite of pot roast. It seemed like it took forever to chew and eventually force herself to swallow. Her body was still tense, and not going along with the idea of eating.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Martie turned back around in his chair and picked up his fork. He poked at his food, his head resting on his fist, and he looked close to tears. _My little boy is so sensitive, bless his little heart_, Quinn thought and put her fork down. The meal was spoiled now. What normally tasted like heaven on a plate, now tasted bland and somewhat sour. She knew she wouldn't be able to choke it down, and she knew Martie's appetite was ruined now as well. _And this is favorite food. Poor kid_.

"Come on," she said and stood up. She grabbed both of their plates and set them in the sink, deciding to clean them up later. When she turned around to face the table, Martie was turned around in his chair again, looking at her with nothing but confusion and sadness. She forced a small smile onto her face, but he didn't return it. "Are you still hungry?" He shook his head no. "And neither one of us wants to sit down to do homework, right?" Again, he simply shook his head.

"Well, why don't we change into our pajamas and crack open some of those new books Grandma sent you?" she asked, and his face lit up a little. He was a smart child after all, and knew his mom was only doing this because of what just happened between her and his godmother. They fought like this sometimes, and it always made a weird feeling tingle on the back of his neck and settle in his stomach. He always spent the next couple of days feeling as if he were going to throw up but never did.

"Ok, but we have to read the one about polar bears first, Mommy," he said and slid off the chair. "Because Damon asked how big polar bears get when they grow up. I tried to tell him, but I couldn't remember." Damon was Martie's best friend at the daycare they went to on the weekends. Their common interests included building things with Lego's, learning about animals, playing card games, and drawing their favorite superheroes fighting to the death. Quinn wasn't too sure how to feel about that last one.

"We can do that, sweetie. Run and put your pajamas on and I'll be there in a minute," she said, and watched as he ran down the hall and shut his bedroom door with a loud thump. _Maybe I should have said 'calmly go put your pajamas on.' Oh well_, she thought as she made her way into her bedroom and quickly shed off her work clothes and changed into some sweats. She let out a relieved groan when the restrictive clothing fell away and was replaced with soft, loose fitting cotton.

She washed the day's makeup off her face and pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in her bed and pass out, but she didn't want to leave her son all alone after what he'd just witnessed. She had been left alone to stew with her own anger and confusion whenever her parents got into a fight – normally about her father's drinking problem – and when Martie was born she had promised she wouldn't do the same thing to him.

When she walked into Martie's room, she couldn't help but smile when she saw him lying on his bed with the new book resting on his lap and his feet bouncing lightly with impatience. _I was hoping he wouldn't get that from me_, she thought, and sat down on the bed next to him. He immediately curled up against her and handed her the heavy book. She opened it up and flipped through it, looking at all of the pages first, their little ritual when starting a new book.

"Aw, look, it's a baby and her Momma," she said, and pointed at the picture in the middle of the book, next to the page talking about the time when polar bears emerge from their dens with their young. She watched Martie's face as he leaned closer to get a better look. He always had a look of wander when he looked at pictures of polar bears or tigers. For some reason he seemed to gravitate towards those large predators, and seeing him so happy by something so simple always filled Quinn with a warm feeling.

"How come baby animals have to drink milk from their mom?" he asked, and flipped through the pages until he found the next picture. Quinn was fine with having that task taken from her. She was content to just lean against the headboard and run her fingers through his hair. _I need to take him in to get it cut soon. He's starting to look a little raggedy._

"Because they're not big enough to digest solid foods yet. If they tried to eat meat, or plants, or whatever the adult animals eat, it would hurt their stomachs really bad and they would throw it up," she said, and he looked up at her with a small questioning gaze on his face. "What? People are animals too, you know, and I had to feed you milk the first couple months of your life. It's the same for other baby animals too."

"How did you get so smart, Mom?" he asked and looked back down at the book. The question made her tense, but if he noticed her change in mood he didn't let on. She tried to pay attention as he talked about the other pictures, but her mind refused to listen. It kept wandering off to other times spent in her dorm room or the quad if the day was nice enough, with another boy who used to teasingly ask her that same question.

"I guess I was just born this way," she said, her voice sounding hollow as those ghost words from her past fell from her lips. She worried her bottom lip, wondering if this was the right time to bring it up or not. He had already been through enough stress lately, and she didn't want to add to his confusion. He had brought it up before, asked questions like any curious child would have after finding out it takes both a male and a female to create a child, but Quinn had avoided answering.

"You know," she said, hoping she wasn't about to make a huge mistake, but she felt like she owed him this. Maybe it would bring him some comfort. "Your dad used to ask me that question sometimes." She made sure her voice sounded casual. She didn't want him to feel like asking questions about his dad was a bad thing, and she was worried treating it like something special would make it seem unapproachable.

Martie's head whipped up, his hair swishing around and landing a little unnaturally on top of his head. She smoothed it down and looked at the features of his face, seeing his father everywhere but the light hazel eyes that matched her own. He studied her face as well, his eyes running quickly from her eyes, to her mouth, and back up to her eyes. She let him sit with that for a minute, waiting to see if he would say anything. Time seemed to drag, and she finally gave in.

"Sometimes when I would say something he didn't already know, he would ask me how I got so smart. And I would tell him that maybe I was just born that way. And he would laugh, and he would kiss me," she said, and the somewhat shocked expression never left Martie's face. She thought he looked almost afraid to say anything. Afraid that if he spoke she would change the subject or afraid she would be angry he interrupted. She wasn't sure. Either way, she needed to put an end to that right away.

"Do you have any questions about him, baby?" she asked, her voice a little strained with the emotion that always bubbled up whenever she thought about him. She watched as Martie nodded his head and looked down at his lap. She slowly moved his hair out of his eyes, but he refused to meet her gaze. "You can ask me if you want. Or you don't have to ask me anything, if you're not ready."

He remained silent, and for a moment Quinn was lost for what to do next. Normally her son had a million questions for everything – why do vacuums need bags? Why would a chicken ever want to cross a road anyway? How do sharks get all of their teeth clean if they can't hold a toothbrush? – but this silence was worrying. 'How to tell your child about their estranged father' wasn't in any of the baby books she had read over the years, and she really wished someone would come along and give her some answers.

"Do you want me to tell you about how I met him?" she asked, sounding a little lost, but she had managed to rein most of it in. He looked up at her, curiosity shining through his eyes, and she couldn't help but smile. That's the look that she was used to seeing on his face, and it felt like a relief to see it back in place. When he gave a little nod of his head, she settled into the bed some more, getting comfortable. She set the book aside and wrapped an arm around him, soothing her hand up and down his back.

"We met on my first day of college. We had the same class, and the professor wasn't very nice. He talked really fast, and every time someone raised their hand to ask him to repeat something he would bark at them that if they couldn't keep up then they should just leave. It was a little scary and overwhelming, and you know how sometimes I talk to myself when I'm working?" He nodded his head and pressed himself against her body, seeking her familiar heat and smell.

"Well, I did that back then too, and I was talking to myself a little bit while I was trying to take notes. Because he was talking so fast, and I was so afraid to ask him any questions, I didn't get very many and I was worried I had missed something really important. Then at the end of class, before I could get up from my seat, your dad leaned over to get my attention."

Yale, 2011

"Hey, are you ok?" Quinn heard a deep voice ask and looked over to her right. She was a little surprised when she came face to face with one of the other students in Econ. 101. He had deep brown eyes, with dark black hair. His skin was olive in tone, but light as if he hadn't spent much time outside. He looked fit under his light blue t-shirt, and Quinn couldn't help but return the easy smile on his face.

"Yes. I'm sorry, was I being too loud?" she asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at being overheard. Talking to herself when under stress was a nasty habit she had picked up recently, but she couldn't seem to shake it.

"No, you're fine," he said as they stood up, gathering their things and putting them into their bags. "You just look a little…." He trailed off, and Quinn glanced up at him and saw he was struggling for words. When he lifted his arm to scratch at the back of his neck she couldn't help but notice the tattoo that was revealed when the short sleeve was pulled back. She couldn't tell what it was at this angle, but she hoped it wasn't something cheesy like a tribal tattoo or a dragon.

"Like I'm about to have a heart attack or break down into hysterical sobs?" she asked with a small laugh. He smiled back; a look of relief replaced the tension that had been in his face. He had a little bit of an accent but Quinn couldn't place it, and she had no idea how to bring it up without sounding close minded.

"Hey, those are your words not mine," he said and slid the straps of his bag up his arms and shrugged them into a comfortable position on his shoulders. They walked down the steps and towards the front of the room. Most of the other students had already made their way out of the room, but there was still a little bit of a clog of people waiting to get out. Quinn stopped about six feet behind the group and found herself feeling happy when he stood next to her.

His eyes squinted as he seemed to study her, her face, her clothes, her hair, and the shoulder bag she carried somewhat awkwardly, its weight feeling as though it was going to drag her down to the floor at any moment. "Let me guess. Freshman?" She gasped, faking shock, and smiled to let him know she was only joking.

"How could you tell?" she said, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Here I thought I was blending in with everyone else." He returned her smile and his dark eyes seemed to shine as they both tested the boundaries of what was acceptable banter and what was taking things too far.

"It's not your fault. Price is hard enough to follow even for those of us who have experience with borderline narcissistic personality disorder egomaniacs who refuse to slow down on the first day." She couldn't help but laugh as they slowly made their way towards the door.

"Well, now I don't feel so bad for not keeping up," she told him, and let out a little breath of relief. In truth, she had been worried she wasn't doing a good job keeping up with the professor whose personality reminded her way too much of some of her high school teachers whose divorces had left them bitter and cold. "I was beginning to think the administration office made a mistake letting me come here."

"Well, if it was a mistake I'm glad. Yale needs more people like you," he said with a soft smile, and her to surprise he didn't take that opportunity to subtly check to her out. She was used to the high school boys who had stared at her when she walked down the hallways. She had learned to adjust to dealing with the lustful gazes, but this was something she wasn't used to. This playful interaction that didn't seem to have an ulterior motive was leaving her feeling a little shaken.

"What, upper middle-class students from small cow towns so the school board can pretend that the majority of the students aren't children of the elite?" He rolled his eyes a little and shook his head, but that small smile never left his face as they walked out of the room and into the crowded hallway. They stepped out of the way of the door, but stood next to the wall.

"No, really hot blondes. I mean, look around." He glanced at all of the people passing them by, and Quinn watched his face closely, trying to figure out if he was being serious and hoping that he was only joking. "Most of the girls are brunette. There's no real balance and that just isn't right."

She took a moment to glance at the girls walking by, and nodded her head a little. She even let her eyes wander down some of their bodies and a sneaky grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. "You do have a point. Although, I hate to break it to you, but this blonde comes from a bottle."

"That's alright," he said, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She looked up at him, their height difference forcing her head to slightly tilt upwards, and she tried desperately to think of something to say before the space between them became tense and awkward. "I'm Pavli Ruiz, by the way." He held out his hand, and she sighed a small breath of relief and shook his hand. It lingered a little longer than a handshake usually does, but she was too caught up in the feel of his skin to care.

"I'm Quinn Fabray. Pavli, that's an interesting name. I've never heard that before," she said and immediately blushed. _Good job on not sounding like an uncultured moron_, she thought and forced her face to remain calm as she cringed on the inside. To her relief, he simply laughed and pulled his hand away. He adjusted one of the straps on his bag, and she broke eye contact and looked down at her feet, the blush getting a little stronger.

"I take it you don't have many Albanians in your small cow town?" he asked, his voice becoming almost musical with his amusement. Quinn looked up at him, thanking God that he wasn't offended by her ignorance. "My grandmother's family immigrated to California from Albania after the war. She insisted I have a traditional name. It's caused more harm than good so far, though."

"Well, I like it if that makes you feel any better," she said, and he simply nodded. Things started to become a little awkward between them, but before she could suggest going their separate ways, he held up a blue notebook that she hadn't noticed he was carrying. A look of confusion passed over her face, but he only got that small smile on his face again. To her surprise, it actually relaxed her a little.

"Notes from today's lecture," he explained and her eyes went wide. She didn't want to look too desperate – they were only notes after all – but the things the professor had talked about sounded important, and she was worried she would bomb their first test, which was only three weeks away, if she didn't have them. "I'll let you borrow them, but." He held up his finger, and she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow. "You have to give me your number first in case you decide to drop the class. Last semester I let someone borrow my notes, and he quit school without giving them back first. I almost failed the midterm because of him."

"Ok," she said, and couldn't help but laugh a little when he took out his phone. He hit some buttons on the screen and then handed it over. She shook her head a little when she saw the new contact screen already up and waiting for her information. "I'm on to you, Ruiz. I have a feeling you would have let me borrow your notes anyway. You just wanted my phone number." She handed the phone back, and he handed over the notebook with a little laugh.

"Smart, quick-witted, good sense of humor so far, and beautiful, but a tad presumptuous," he said as he pocketed the phone. "Yale is going to be way more interesting with you around." A blush bloomed over her cheeks, and she took her time putting the notebook in her shoulder bag, gladly taking the excuse to break eye contact for as long as possible. She wasn't used to boys calling her out on that. "And bashful, we need to add bashful to the list."

"Please stop listing things about me, please," she said, and couldn't help the nervous laugh that bubbled in the back of her throat. Just then her cell phone chimed, indicating she had a new text message. She checked it quickly and rolled her eyes before typing out her response. "I need to go. My roommate wants to have lunch today. She thinks we need to start bonding to really kick off our college experience. She's a drama major and wants to be on Broadway. That apparently translates to total drama queen." The disdain in her voice was obvious, and she wasn't shy about letting it show.

"Well, have fun with that," he said. "It was nice meeting you, Quinn." She put her phone back in her bag and looked up at him. She smiled and tried not to blush at the way he was looking at her. She was used to lustful gazes from boys going through puberty, with hormones they couldn't control, and the lack of decency to only glance for a second or two before looking away. But the way Pavli was looking at her, with genuine interest and more humor and amusement than anything else, it made her feel giddy.

"It was nice meeting you, too. See you Wednesday. I promise to bring your notes back," she said before walking off. She glanced over her shoulder, and another small blush bloomed on her cheeks and burned the tips of her ears when she saw him watching her walk away. _Ok, I think this is going to be my favorite class this semester_, she thought with a small sigh as she headed off to lunch with her devil of a roommate.

Present Day

"On Wednesday at our second class he invited me to a party at one of the frat houses, and we became really close friends," she said and continued to run her fingers through Martie's dark hair. It was the same texture, the same color, although Pavli never let his hair get this long. He always preferred a neat, trimmed cut. She let out a little sigh, and looked into Martie's eyes. Some of the conversation she had cleaned up, or left out. She didn't want him knowing she didn't like Rachel when they had first met, or that Pavli had been a little sexist as a joke.

"When did you fall in love with him?" he whispered and the question threw her completely off guard. Her son had never asked anything like that before about anyone. Whenever he asked questions about his father in the past it was always about what he looked like, whether or not he liked animals too, or if liked building things with Lego's. But he never asked about Pavli in relation to Quinn. _I guess I had this coming_, she thought and slowly took in a deep breath.

"I honestly don't know, baby." She rubbed at her tired eyes and really thought about the question. She had been friends with Pavli all through college, and the lines started to become really blurred after a while. There were numerous times when they were drunk at one party or another and ended up in some dark corner making out. It never went beyond kissing, however, and the two always chalked it up to hormones and alcohol when they were sober, and it didn't affect their friendship.

"It's really hard to say because I loved him as a friend for a long time first. We started dating when I was a senior. He was already graduated and working for this little local newspaper. We were together until the end of the summer after I graduated and things between us just didn't work out," she said, and looked at his hair that was she still playing with, breaking the eye contact between them. She could see his face scrunch up in confusion, and she tensed a little. _Please don't push the issue. Please, please, please_.

"But why, Mommy? Did he break your heart or something?" he asked, his voice strained and she felt her chest tighten with an uncomfortable emotion that she tried to hold back. _Oh, my sweet, sweet boy_, she thought and leaned forward. She left a little kiss on his forehead, but that didn't calm him down at all. Normally when he was upset, kisses and hugs would do the trick, but now he just looked determined to get answers. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling while she tried to think.

"No, Martie, he didn't break my heart." She looked at him, and the look of confusion on his face made that tight feeling even worse. She wanted to give him some answers, but this was asking just a little too much. "Sometimes things just don't work out between two people. I know it's not what you're looking for, but it's the truth. We just didn't work well as a couple." Quinn had never flat out lied to her son. She had bent the truth on occasion, but other than teaching him about Santa, this was the first real lie she had ever told, and it made her feel like shit.

"It's time for bed, ok, buddy?" she said, and he just sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. _God, he's getting more and more like him every day._ "Look, sometimes it's hard to talk about your dad because I miss him, but if you have any questions about him you can ask me, ok? I don't want you to feel like you can't come to me if you have questions about anything. Ok?" He simply nodded his head, and she left another kiss on his forehead before standing up and helping him get under the covers. _Why do I get the feeling this is how Pandora felt after she opened the stupid box?_


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of the alarm going off on her phone startled Quinn awake. She quickly grabbed it off the nightstand, unlocked the phone, and turned the alarm off as fast as possible. If she had the money to replace it, she would have taken the risk of throwing the Blackberry against the wall in anger, but she couldn't afford any permanent damage. This was the only way for her boss to get a hold of her, and she didn't want to miss out on any extra hours if they ever became available.

She rubbed her eyes as she sat up in bed and tossed the phone onto the mattress. _Time to get up and play demon hunter. Yay_, she thought and walked over to the dresser. She stripped of her comfortable sweats and pulled on all of the dark clothes she had that were appropriate for chasing monsters in the middle of the night. She ended up in black skinny jeans, three undershirts in an attempt to fight off the cold, a dark blue shirt, and her black hoodie. She didn't bother with makeup under the logic that if anyone else happened to be out this late they wouldn't get a good enough look at her face anyway.

After pulling on her ass-kicker boots, she made her way out into the hall. She was surprised to see the kitchen light already on, and casting a soft glow out into the living room and hallway. She felt bad for being surprised. _Of course Rachel is up, because she's the best friend anyone could ask for and I'm an asshole_, she thought as she walked as quietly as she could down the hall and towards the light. The smell of fresh coffee filled her nostrils, and she took in a very deep breath.

"Good morning," Rachel said as Quinn walked up. She was already sipping at her own cup, and some of the leftovers from dinner were on a plate in front of her, and they looked to Quinn as if they had actually been munched on. _Ok, so I guess I don't need to worry about anything there_, she thought feeling guilty for thinking her friend would backslide after coming so far fighting her anorexia.

"Good morning," she replied with a yawn and stretched her arms far above her head. She could feel her back bones popping and cracking back into place, and let out a relieved sigh when the discomfort she had been feeling went away. She walked over to the coffee pot, grabbed a mug from the cupboard directly above it, and watched the dark, heavenly liquid slowly pour into the bright yellow ceramic.

"He woke up once about an hour ago." Rachel's voice broke the silence, and Quinn glanced over at her. She looked tired and worn down, but that seemed to be normal these days. What she didn't look was worried, and that filled Quinn with some hope. "He said he had a bad dream – something about a giant rabbit chasing him around a school – but he went back to sleep after I sang him a couple of lullabies. He seems to be doing ok. I think that stuff might actually be working this time." Quinn smiled and was happy to see that Rachel didn't hesitate to return it.

"That's great news," she said and sipped at the scolding coffee. _Ok, time for some penance._ "Thanks for sitting up with him. I know you're exhausted, and it couldn't have been easy. I appreciate it." The look on Rachel's face changed a bit, but Quinn couldn't tell exactly what that expression meant. She looked a little surprised, but maybe mad? She wasn't sure, and not knowing made her nervous.

"Of course, Quinn. You know I would do anything for Martie," she said, her voice soft and she sounded as if she couldn't believe what she just heard. "Hell, I've raised him too. I get that he's your son, and I don't have a legal right to him, but I've been there since day one." Quinn nodded her head and directed her gaze into her mug. _I guess that was a dick move._

"I know that, but I was a bitch to you earlier, and I don't expect you to just take care of him. I'm just really glad he has you in his life, is all." She looked up at the other woman and a look of understanding was in those expressive eyes, and she hated that she was so see-through. It seemed like since they had become friends freshman year, the brunette had always been able to read her, and it unnerved Quinn.

"I know you don't expect it, but I love that little boy a hell of a lot, and if singing to him helps scare the monsters away then I'm glad to do it," she said very carefully and set her fork down on the counter. She walked over to the blonde and slowly wrapped her in a strong hug. Before Quinn could respond, she rested her head against the slightly taller woman's shoulder and let out a little sigh. "I hate it when we fight." Her words were a soft whisper against sleep-warmed skin, and Quinn's breathing halted in her throat.

"I hate it too," she whispered back and set her mug down to return the hug. "I mostly hate that we fought because of a guy. I mean, how high school drama is that shit?" She laughed, and felt relief when the other woman laughed as well.

"I know it sounds really corny and dumb, but let's never fight again, ok?"

Quinn laughed again, and a little louder this time. She bit her lips to hold in the sound, afraid of waking up her son. She simply nodded her head, content to stand and let the smaller woman's body fight off the chill of the room. "That sounds like a plan," she said and pulled back just enough to leave a small kiss on Rachel's cheek.

It was just a band-aid, Quinn knew, a band-aid over a bullet hole. It would have to do for now, however, because she wasn't ready yet. Until she was ready, the half-assed apologies and whispers of forgiveness would have to be enough to keep them glued together.

The diva smiled and nuzzled her nose against the long, slender neck that was mostly covered with the black cotton polyester blend of her hood. "You look like you're about to go rob a bank or something," she joked, and let out a throaty chuckle. She stopped, however, when she noticed that Quinn wasn't laughing along with her.

"Um, Quinn, I know we're pretty poor, but please don't go rob a bank. I can't afford to bail you out, and you're too pretty for prison." That made Quinn laugh and she buried her face in Rachel's shoulder to try and muffle the sound as her whole body shook. Tears leaked from her eyes and were absorbed by Rachel's sleep shirt with the effort she was using to control herself.

"I mean it. You would only last a day, maybe two, before some prison-hardened criminal tried to make you their bitch. It isn't a pleasant experience; I wouldn't wish that one anyone," she told her, her voice full of nothing but concern and fear.

Quinn got her laughter under control, and pulled back just enough to look into Rachel's eyes. The expression on her face conveyed all the worry that had been in her voice. "Rach, where do you get this stuff? I'm not going to rob a bank, and I'm not going to be anyone's bitch." She let her eyes wander off to the side of Rachel's face and furrowed her eyebrows as if deep in thought. "Well, at least I won't become more of a bitch. You do keep me on a pretty tight leash."

Rachel's face scrunched up in mock anger, and she smacked Quinn hard on the ass. The blonde yelped and stepped out of the hug. The both laughed as she rubbed the stinging flesh over her jeans, and she leaned against the counter. She picked up her mug and began sipping at the coffee again, letting it warm her from the inside out.

She watched in silence as Rachel went back to her meal. She picked at the food carefully, deciding which item to eat next as if it were a chess move. _Man, what I wouldn't give to be inside her head for just a moment while she eats. Her relationship with food is fucked forever since junior year, and that's got to be rough_, she thought and shook her head a little.

"I better be off. Don't want those scary monsters getting any ideas if I show up late," she said, hoping to make the other girl laugh one more time before she left for the night, but sadly her little joke was not well received. Instead, she watched as Rachel bit her bottom lip and went out of her way not to make eye contact, both clear signs that she wanted to say something, but knew it would only cause trouble.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Call me if he has another episode, ok?" she asked, and the brunette only nodded her head. Quinn stood there for a minute longer just watching her best friend. A million thoughts ran through her head, some of them bad, most of them good, but she couldn't find the will to lend them her voice. What would happen if she did say some of the things she was dying to bring up? Their friendship would never be the same, for one. Possibly destroyed forever, and Rachel would vanish from both her and Martie's life, and that was a risk she wasn't willing to take.

She went about gathering her things from around the room. The invisibility charm that was kept in the dish, the string she used to secure it to the sheath, and then she stood in front of the coat closet and took a big breath. She went about tying the string to the sheath for the axes, and the leather sheath for a small knife, and clipped it onto her waist of her jeans, and shrugged the larger onto her shoulders. _Another night of the same crap again. Let's hope I don't get disemboweled tonight. That would be a plus_, she thought and locked the front door on the way out.

She decided not to use her car that night. Even though it was cold, pushing 42 degrees, she didn't want to lose her parking spot. The park wasn't far, and Syndri had promised that these things would be hungry and scavenging the local parks, community gardens, and anywhere else they could get their hands on vegetation. _Let's just hope the cold slows them down or I'm going to be freaking screwed_, she thought with a yawn and started off down the sidewalk.

She didn't want to think about what would happen if the creature tonight was anything like the one last night. She knew she wouldn't be quick enough on her feet to avoid being badly wounded, and last night she had barely managed that. _Maybe Rachel's right. Maybe I should think about finding an alternative for Martie. But that just doesn't feel right. This is what I need to be doing_, she thought, and pulled her coat tighter around herself when a strong gust blew through the streets.

Boomtown was only a fifteen-minute walk away. With its evergreens standing tall, and little duck ponds and long winding trails, it was the perfect place for people to take the kids and animals for hikes, or for people to ride dirt bikes if they were so inclined. It was the park Quinn often took Martie to on the weekends or after school in the late spring and beginnings of summer when the light wouldn't vanish until the late evening.

She and Rachel even had picnics under some of those tall trees when their relationship was past the friendship line. _If only we can get back to that without things going to hell_, she thought and kicked a small rock lying on the sidewalk. She watched with a huff as it skipped down the concrete, making little tinking noises as it bounced.

_And now she's going out with this producer guy. What the fuck is his deal? Rachel has been trying since she graduated to get a break, and she's struggling. He should know that this is going to affect her future. What are people going to think of her when she goes into auditions? How many creepers are going to offer her a part if she sucks their dick because they think she's easy? Why can't she know that it's going to happen whether she likes it or not?_

She forced herself to let those thoughts go as she entered Boomtown. The pavement bled into mushy earth, and she cringed a little when she heard the sloshing of mud under her boots. Boots that would be no doubt covered in the stuff by the time she made it home. _Maybe if I offer to buy Martie a new toy for his animal collection he'll clean the mud off my boots for me. I'm sure he would go for that. Those animal toys are like his crack. Ok, big, bad beastie, come out with your paws up and we can get this over with_, she thought with a roll of her eyes and looked around.

She heard something moving in one of the trees and her heart immediately started pounding wildly against her ribs. It felt as if it were trying to make an escape. She inched closer, looking up through the branches, trying with all her might to see what was making that scratching sound, but it was too dark. The noise ranged anywhere from raccoon to opossum, maybe even a cat that had climbed and couldn't figure out how to get down. But then she heard it. A strange, low rumble that didn't sound like anything she had ever heard before. Syndri explained that it would make a noise like this, and Quinn gulped and took a step back. It was male who had just sensed the presence of another male nearby, and now he was getting ready to challenge the other for mating rights to the females in the area.

_Ok, I think I'm going to take my chances leaving this one alone and finding a less aggressive Daimonas. The last thing I need is to be rutted to death 'cause this horny bastard can't keep it in his pants._ She continued down the path and rubbed her arms quickly, building friction to keep herself warm. Luckily the wind wasn't as frequent or as strong as it was the previous night, so she didn't feel like she was going to freeze to death any time soon.

It wasn't long before she came across another Daimonas. _Wow, Syndri was right. They are everywhere_, she thought and reached behind her. She pulled one of the axes out of the sheath, and as soon it was passed that magical barrier and became visible, the stinging sensation tingled across her skin, and a sharp pain hit her right behind the eyes. _One of these days I'm going to get used to it, I swear._ She took a deep breath and pushed the pain to the back of her mind. She inched closer until she got a better look at the beast.

It was only about four feet tall, light brown skin that looked like dried mud and cracked mud covered its entire body. It was standing next to a tree using sharp claws to dig at the bark. She watched it for a few minutes, trying to figure out exactly what was so special about the bark of a pine tree. She quickly realized it wasn't after the bark, but the soft, rich meat of the tree buried about two inches below. _Damn, I wish this one wasn't so cute_, she thought and took aim. Like the previous night she went for the head, hoping to get in a perfect kill shot and be over with this as quickly as possible.

However, unlike the previous night it wasn't, and it wasn't wind direction and her strong shivering that caused her to miss. It was something solid and warm slamming into her from behind right at the moment she threw the axe that made her aim wide. It sailed off and landed in the trunk of a nearby tree, making a loud thunking sound when the blade dug in.

Quinn went flying forward and hit the ground hard. She was winded as soon as she landed on the cold ground, but managed to flip around as soon as she got her bearings. God, I hope it isn't one of the males trying to protect a female. _The last thing I need is an angry monster coming after me for trying to kill a potential mate_, she thought and reached for her second axe. What she saw made her jaw drop and her mouth go dry. _So much for that fucking theory. _She scrambled to her feet, facing the masked stranger who had knocked her to the ground – a very human, masked stranger who was about to find themselves on the wrong end of a pissed off woman armed with a throwing axe.

She didn't hesitant to step closer, puffing out her chest in anger and unleashing some of the exhaustion, frustration, and rage she was feeling. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she said harshly, but made sure to keep her tone down. Her efforts were in vein, though, when the Daimonas heard the commotion, and took off running into the trees. "Great, you made it get away!"

She tried to take off after it, hoping it wouldn't get too far on its short, stumpy legs, but the person reached out and grabbed her by the arm before she could take more than two steps. She was pulled back hard, and she whipped around, slapping them on the wrist to try and get them off of her.

"Seriously, what is your problem? I need that thing dead, and I need it right now!" She didn't bother keeping her voice down this time. Even though they were small, Syndri had said that when threatened they could move fast, and their flight response outweighed their fight by a great deal. "What are you, some kind of demon activist? You go around saving those things from people trying to keep these streets safe?" She waited, but didn't get a response. She took that moment to really look at who was standing in front of her.

By the stance it was somewhat obvious that he was male, about five foot ten, maybe a little bit shorter given the small heal on the boots he was wearing. The mask was black and looked to be made out of some type of silicone or latex. _He probably got that from one of those weird bondage shops_, she thought and shook her head at the way he was dressed. _Black turtleneck, black jeans, and combat boots. Definitely a freaking weirdo._ "Aren't you going to answer me? I asked you a freaking question. The polite thing to do after knocking someone down and covering them in mud is to answer at least one of their questions," she said and tried with all her might to stop herself from punching him in the face out of anger.

He turned to leave but Quinn was on him. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled, turning him around to face her. "Listen, ass, I've been busting my ass out in the cold trying to take down one of those things, and you are going to tell me why you stopped me because I can guarantee that thing is more valuable to me dead, than it is to you alive." She held on tight when he tried her push her off, and with lightning quick speed she pulled the knife from its sheath and held it to his throat.

"I am not playing with you," she said and let go of his arm. He didn't move; she didn't even think he was breathing at this point. She reached up slowly and wrapped her fingers around the hem of the mask. She swore she could see the panic rising in his blue eyes. She pulled it off as quickly as possible. The latex made it a little difficult, but she managed not to cause any damage. She dropped it to the ground with a gasp. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and her breath froze in her lungs. It didn't stay still for long, though, when she yelled, her voice echoing through the trees. "Tom?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm sorry this has taken so freaking long to update. It seems like as soon as I made an outline for the next few chapters, it became impossible to write. Getting kicked in the teeth by life hasn't made writing any easier. I'll update as soon as I can, and I'm going to aim for bi-weekly updates, but sadly I can't make any promises. I'm currently without a beta, so I'm sorry for any errors that may be in this, especially towards the end since those paragraphs are newer and I haven't taken as much time proofing them. Anyway, farewell until next time.**

* * *

"Hey, Quinn," he said, his voice small and sheepish, and her stomach felt like in bottomed out from under itself. She almost saw red at his words. She pressed the knife a little harder against his throat, and he gulped loudly. The muscles of his throat moved the blade a little, and Quinn had the decency to ease up a bit of avoid cutting him badly. With how sharp she kept it, it wouldn't take much to do a lot of damage.

"'Hey, Quinn'?" she said, her lips so tight they pulled taunting across her teeth as she spoke, making her look more like an angry animal than a human being. "That's all you have to say to me right now? You come out of freaking nowhere, tackle me to the ground, cover me in mud, let that thing escape, and all you have to say to me is 'hey, Quinn'? What are you even doing here?" She stared hard at his face, but she could see in his eyes that he was either about to wet himself, or pass out, or possibly both in either order, and she really didn't want to deal with that mess. She pulled the knife away from his throat, and took a step back.

He started coughing, and gasping, and rubbed his throat with his right hand. She rolled her eyes at his dramatics, and shook her head a little. _And I thought living with an aspiring Broadway actress was bad enough, now I'm being stalked by the William Shatner of demon hunters. Wait, am I being stalked. God, I hope this isn't one of those weird crushes gone bad and now he thinks we're going to get married and have babies or something. I knew I shouldn't have been nice to him at work. What the hell was I thinking? _

"I mean it, Tom, what the hell are you doing here? Why did you push me over?" she asked, her voice hard and unforgiving. If this was a case of delusional infatuation, she was not going to send any mixed signals at all. She needed to be clear that she wanted nothing more to do with him, and if that didn't send the message clear enough, she always had a really sharp knife and a couple of axes to send the message for her.

"What do you mean 'why did I push you over'? You were going to kill one of those things, and it was doing nothing but eating. Is that such a crime?" he asked, and picked him mask up off the ground. He brushed off some of the mud, and his face scrunched up when he saw how dirty it was. "Look what you did, and this was brand new. It's going to take forever to get this clean." His voice had a whiney tone to it that sounded almost childish. Any other circumstances and it would have made her smile.

"Oh God," she said, and her shoulders slumped down. "You are a demon activist, aren't you? I've heard about you guys. You're trying to stir up some trouble in the government, and bring these things to public knowledge so you can get them put on some protected list. Do you have any idea how dangerous these things can be? How violent, and vicious with no regards to anyone but their own stomachs? And you want to protect them?" She put the knife back in the sheath. It needed to be put away while she still had control of herself. "I bring my kid to this part in the spring and summer. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is knowing that these things are using it as a feeding ground?"

"Woe, come down," he said, and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Put on the breaks, check the side mirrors, and take a breath." _What the hell did he just say?_ "I'm not one of those activists, ok? I would never use those kinds of tactics for any reason whatsoever, even if it was for a good cause. And what do you mean 'you bring your kid to this park'? Since when do you have a kid? Are you one of those crazy people who call their dogs and cats their kids or are you talking about a miniature human being you pushed out of your body?"

The Daimonas Freedom First activists were a small group of people, about thirty or so, spread throughout the city. They believed that the Daimonas that dwelled in the city were not dangerous, but simply misunderstood. They used mostly harmless tactics to get attention, graffiti-ing buildings of people they knew hunted the creatures down, even smashing in the windows of the politicians who flat out ignored their petitions to have these creatures publicly acknowledged. A handful of times their methods turned violent, and the office of a congressman had been burned; luckily everyone had already gone for the day. The government refused to give in. The public statements were all the same; that these creatures aren't real, are just an elaborate hoax by bored people with nothing better to do with their time.

"Yes, a real kid. He's seven years old, and you didn't know because you're just some guy I work with. I don't like to talk about my personal life at work, ok?" she said, and it was very clear by the look on his face that he didn't believe her. She sighed, looked up at the sky. _What else is going to happen to make this night worse?_ She pulled out her cell phone and pressed the photo app. She scrolled through until she found a recent one; she and Martie were curled up on the couch reading one of his animal books. Apparently it was too cute of a sight for Rachel to resist taking a picture. "Here, my roommate took this about three weeks ago." She held up the phone for him to see.

His eyes squinted as he studied it, but after a few seconds his face broke out into a really big smile. "Aw, look at you two. Wow, he has your eyes, I can tell just from that picture." Quinn didn't try to hide her proud smile. She loved the fact that her son inherited her eyes rather than his father's. He already has his father's good looks, quick wit, and his gentleness. She was glad that he has something external of hers for people to notice. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw Tom's face go white, and his eyes widened as if panicked.

"Oh God, you're not single," he said and took a step back. He ran his hand through his hair, and she wanted to laugh at how afraid he suddenly was. "Should I be worried about some dude coming to kick my ass for flirting with you? You don't have a ring, and you never talk about having a boyfriend. I just assumed you were single." By the end of his rant she was laughing, though to her credit she was trying to control it. "And you think this is funny. I'm going to get my head kicked in, and you think this is funny."

"You're not going to get your head kicked in, stop worrying. I'm not with anyone," she said and put her phone away. Her eyebrows furrowed in irritation when he let out a really big sigh of relief. "I'm so glad me being a single mother is a good thing for you. I wouldn't want you to worry about getting beaten up by the father of my child. Do you really think I would date someone so possessive and violent? What is this, the eighteen hundreds? Did you expect him to challenge you to a duel for my hand or something?"

She turned on her heel and walked off to look for her axes. To her annoyance, he followed her, almost tripping over himself to catch up. "No, that's not what I thought at all. You don't take shit from anyone, that's what I like about you, but I haven't been exactly subtle, and if you were with someone that wouldn't be cool. Wait, roommate wasn't like, code for girlfriend or something was it? 'Cause we're tracking demons in the middle of the night, being gay is so not weird compared to that." Quinn rolled her eyes, and pulled the axe out of the trunk of the tree.

"Not that it's any of your business," she said as she put the axe in the sheath. She had to clench her jaw to stop herself from crying out in pain when the charm was activated. "But I'm not gay, I'm bi, and no, I'm not dating my roommate. She has a boyfriend or whatever they are." _Wow, Quinn, you didn't sound like a jealous weirdo at all. I'm sure if you were to repeat that sentence in front of Rachel, it wouldn't send any mixed signals at all_.

"Oh," he said, and continued to follow as she made her way over to one of the trails and began walking down it. "Are you in love with her, but she doesn't feel the same, so now you have to watch from the sidelines? I know exactly how that feels." She looked over at him, her mouth agape, and her face contorted into an expression that could only mean 'what is wrong with you?'

"No," she shot back, her voice had raised a couple of octaves, and the strain it caused hurt her throat. "I'm…I'm just…ugh!" If she had any less control over herself she would have stomped the ground like an angry child; that's exactly how she felt at the moment. Instead, she took in a deep breath, and tried as hard as she could to calm down. "Why are you asking me so many personal questions? I'm supposed to be mad at you, remember? I need the liver and some skin of one of those Daimonas, and you let it get away. And you never answered my question: what the hell are you doing out here if you're not one of those crazy DFF freaks?"

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and curiosity when she saw Tom shrink in on himself. His shoulders slouched, and his head bowed as he stared at the ground while they walked. She couldn't be sure since it was dark out, but she thought she saw a blush color his cheeks. _Ok, what the hell is wrong with him now?_ she thought, and remained quiet while she waited for him to answer.

"You'll just think it's stupid," he said, and looked up at her for just a second before looking back down at the ground. She had to bite back a smile because she didn't want to embarrass him more. _God, he's acting like a little kid right now. If I hadn't just thrown a little bit of a temper tantrum it would be a little sad. Is it weird I think it's kind of cute?_ "You'll laugh and not want to talk to me anymore."

"Please, Tom," she said and rolled her eyes. "You're wearing that outfit and I'm still talking to you. Plus I held a knife to your throat and you're still talking to me. I think we're a little passed that stage, don't you think?" She raised an eyebrow when he looked up at her again, challenging him to question her. Instead, he very slowly took in a deep breath, and the blush on her face became a little darker. "Fine, tell me why you're here, and I'll tell you my story."

"Alright," he said after a few moments of silence. "That sounds fair." They turned down another path, and he scratched at the back of his neck as he tried to find the rights words. "I know it sounds a little dumb, but I'm just trying to learn about them. What are these things? How many different species are there? Why are they here? How did they get here? What do they want? Don't you want to know any of that stuff?"

"Well, I don't know exactly how many different kinds there are, but I know how they got here, and what they want," she said, and glanced over to meet his eyes. She had to bite back a small at the look of skepticism on his face, but she could tell that he's also curious. After years of seeing that exact same look on Martie's face, she would know it anywhere.

"You're serious?" he asked, and she could tell that he doesn't believe her. She nodded her head yes, and looked around at the trees. She hadn't been paying very close attention, and going home empty handed wasn't an option.

"Yeah, I really know where they came from," she looked over at him, and he didn't look as mistrusting. She made sure to maintain a little bit of eye contact, while also making sure to watch where she was going. She was already covered in enough mud for one night. "It sounds crazy, but have you heard of the Roswell crash?"

His eyebrows furrowed, causing a large crease to appear in the space between them. "The weather balloon that went down in the 40's, but a bunch of people think it's a government cover up of a spaceship that crashed? Area 51 and all of that stuff?" he asked, his voice was a little higher than normal, and he watched her face closely. She looked dead serious, and it eased some of the anxiety in his mind.

"Yep, that's it," she said, and pulled out one of her axes. She winced at the pain, but quickly continued her tale. "Well, it wasn't a weather balloon. A ship really did come to earth, but it didn't crash on its own. Someone in the military shot it down, and when it hit, a bunch of living organisms dispersed all over the ground. Over the years they've evolved, and now what most of them are looking for is a place to call home."

His eyes were wide, and his jaw had dropped slightly open. She couldn't help but smile at the look of awe on his face. "Wow, that's…that's just…wow." She couldn't hold it in anymore. She started laughing, but tried to keep quiet so she wouldn't scare off any creatures in the area, so it mostly came out at loud snorts, which only made her need to laugh more.

"Oh my god, you should have seen your face," she cried between the hard belly laughs that she was trying with all of her might to keep quiet. It wasn't working as well as she wanted, and the sounds of her laughter echoed through the trees. She looked up at Tom with tears in her eyes, and she quickly tried to wipe them away. In the back of her mind she was thankful that she chose not to wear any makeup or it would be smeared all over her face right now.

"That wasn't funny, Quinn," he said with a large frown on his face. He was trying not to laugh, even though what she had done was mean, the sound of her laughter was infectious. He had always thought so, and trying to keep it together now was like torture. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips when she had to stop walking, and hold onto her knees to stop herself from falling over. "I mean it, you're a jerk. I'm out here trying to learn about these things, and you just lied to me for a joke. What are you, still in high school?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, and patted her chest in an attempt to stop the laughter that seemed to take over her body against her will. She finally managed to suck in a deep breath through her nose, and let it out slowly, hot tears still rolling down her cheeks. "It's just been a long day and I really needed a good laugh." She coughed, her throat a little sore now, and she wiped away the last of her tears and stood up straight. She started walking again, and tried not to let the fact that she was just making a ton of noise upset her. Noise meant she had probably chased the creatures deeper into the park, which meant this hunt was going to take longer than she had hoped.

"Guess I can't hold it against you if you were having a bad day," he said, and scratched at the back of his neck. She recognized that nervous tick immediately, and forced herself to take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "So…." He trailed off, and looked down at his shoes for a moment. "What's your story? How did you get involved in all of this?" He looked around at the forest, and then right at her. He watched as her breathing stopped for a second, and a somber look fell over her face.

"I did promise to tell you, didn't I?" she said, her voice low, and she sounded distant; almost as if she wasn't talking to him at all. She picked at her cuticles for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, and an eerie silence fell between them. She wasn't sure if it was all in her head, or if the thickening darkness created by infrequent lamp posts is what 'caused her to feel like she had suddenly stepped into some weird horror movie.

"You don't have to," he said, his eyes studying her face closely. Even if he didn't know her very well, it was pretty obvious whatever the answer was wasn't pleasant. Just because she had pulled his leg a bit didn't mean he was going to force something out of her just to get a little bit of revenge. His heart felt like it stopped when she looked up at him. The amount of conflict he saw in those hazel eyes sent a shiver down his spine, and he wanted to reach out, and wrap her in a tight hug. It was the only thing he could think of that would maybe chase that look away.

"No, it's alright. It's just, I haven't really talked about it much since it happened. My roommate doesn't even know the whole story, and we've been best friends since college," she said, and took in a shaky breath. "Eight months ago I was walking down a sidewalk to my car, and there was this couple walking about thirty feet in front of me. Everything seemed so normal, and I actually felt a little jealous for a few seconds."

A tight smile pulled at her lips for a second, but quickly faded as the memory flashed through her mind's eye. She took in a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm her racing heart. "Then they turned down this alley, but I didn't think anything of it, it's not my business to judge other people, you know? I got in my car, and I was about to go home when I heard this god awful scream." Her hands began to shake, and her lungs felt like they were going to burn up as she struggled to keep her breathing even.

Tom watched as she started picking at her cuticles again, and he waited in silence. When it became obvious she wasn't going to continue, he gently prodded. "He attacked her?" His voice was low and calm. He didn't want to add to the stress that she was no doubted going through right now. He watched as she shook her head quickly. Some of her hair came out from behind her ears and curtained over her eyes. She didn't move it. Instead she looked down at the ground to prevent herself from tripping over anything on the path.

"No," she said, her voice trembled as tears swelled in her eyes. "When I got to the alley, I saw her standing in front of him, and her hands were inside of his chest, and there was this bright light glowing in the middle of it. I tried to call the cops, but my hands were shaking so hard, and I dropped my phone. She heard it and ran after me. She beat me so bad, more than a normal person should have been able to in just a minute. She just left me there on the sidewalk to die, and all I could think about was my little boy waiting up for me to read him his bedtime story."

She hiccupped and let out a strained sob that forced its way out of her throat. As soon as she felt him touch her arm she turned, and wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his chest, and she felt him blanket his arms around her back, pulling her tightly against him. As soon as she felt his hands gently rub her tense muscles, she gave up the control she was desperately clinging to and began to openly sob. Every punch, every kick, every scratch, every broken bone, every torn part of her body; she could remember it all. What was worse, she could remember the fear that had settled over her. Fear of what would happen to Martie, and fear that no one would find out what really happened to her, and she would end up a pile of ashes in the backroom of the morgue.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Everything worked out for the best, right? You're still here, and your boy is still getting his bedtime stories," he said, and she could barely hear him over the sound of her sobs. It was obvious to her that he sounded uncomfortable, unsure, and maybe even a little freaked out. She hadn't planned on revealing so much, but it felt good to get it all off her chest. She had kept her fears hidden from Rachel, kept the truth about how bad the beating was from her best friend because she was already freaked out enough as it was, and Quinn didn't want to add more stress to the situation.

"You're right, you're right," she said and sniffled. She took a couple steps back, out of his arms and wiped her face off with the sleeve of her hoodie. "I'm sorry, you probably think I'm a total freak. I've never told anyone about that before, and I guess it's been bothering me more than I thought." She finally looked up at him when she felt his hand softly rub her arm. He had a small smile on his face, but she could tell it was forced, and it showed just how uncomfortable he was feeling.

"You don't have to apologize. You had a near death experience, you'd be crazy if that didn't upset you," he said, and a small chuckle bubbled in the back of her throat. Because she was still trying to get her tears under control, the laugh sounded ugly, and strange, and it made her blush. She took a few deep breaths, and shut her eyes while she imagined her heart slowing down. It was a meditation trick she learned about a month after the attack, and at first she thought it was stupid, but has used it every time she starts to feel anxious, or when she feels like her emotions are starting to get the better of her.

"Ok, I'm ok," she said, her voice sounded rough from the crying. _I need to start bringing water when I leave the apartment_, she thought, and cleared her throat. She turned and started walking down the path, and Tom fell into step right beside her. She glanced up at him, her hazel eyes rimmed red, and she struggled to come up with something to say. _What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Do I thank him for letting me cry like that? Should I just ignore it like it never happened? There needs to be a guide on what to do after having an emotional moment with someone you barely know_, she thought and nervously chewed her bottom lip.

"So, what happened after that?" he asked after a few minutes of quiet. She glanced up at him again, her eyebrows knit together in surprise and confusion but he was looking straight ahead. "I mean, if that thing tore you up and left you for dead then how are you still alive?" She let out a shaky breath, and let her eyes roam over the trees. She still needed to find one of those creatures and harvest the parts she was told to bring back. Martie was doing better, but there was no guarantee it was going to last.

"Someone found me," she said, and a small, tight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. "He owns a little shop not far from where it happened, and he was working late. He heard me screaming, and he chased that thing away from me. I don't remember how we got into the backroom, but that's where I woke up, and I was covered in this nasty smelling stuff. He knows how to make healing potions and ointments, and he fixed me up. I still have a couple of scars that aren't going anywhere, but there's no permanent damage from the attack. Well, not physically anyway."

She left out the part about Syndri being a Daimonas. Even just the thought of telling Tom about that made a ball of anxiety coil in her stomach, and set her on edge. He stopped her from killing that one, risked his life so it could get away, but she had no real way of being sure what he really wanted with it. Part of studying a species is taking samples, dissecting them to learn about how their bodies work. She wasn't about to risk the life of the one creature she had come to depend on for trusting someone she hardly knew.

She watched his face closely as he absorbed her words. She made a point to look away every few seconds, scanning the trees for any signs of the Daimonas that she needed so desperately. She took a deep breath, willing away the anxiety that settled all along her spine, and focused on what was right in front of her instead of letting her mind come up with dangerous scenarios of what could happen if she doesn't find another one of those things.

When she glanced back at his face, she couldn't help but tense up a little when she saw him biting his bottom lip with a very pensive expression. Not wanting to deal with what that look could possibly mean, she looked forward again and concentrated on the task she needed to accomplish. She let her eyes wander and didn't even bother with holding back the annoyed sigh that bloomed in her chest. She didn't see anything, and the thought that maybe she wasn't going to find another one was too much of a weight for her to bear.

"So," Tom said, finally breaking the silence that was starting to grow thick, and almost tangible between them. "You were attacked by one of those things, you were saved, but how did you get involved in all of this?" She looked over at him with her eyebrows furrowed, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck. "When you were screaming at me, you said you needed some of that thing's parts, what do you need the parts for?"

A sickening feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and she felt like a belt had been wrapped around her chest, and was being pulled so tightly she could hardly breathe. She couldn't tell him about Martie. She didn't trust him, it wasn't a safe idea, and just the thought of opening up to a near stranger about that made her want to run, or puke, or both. She shut her eyes for a second, and focused on the sounds around her. She ignored the anxiety and instead thought of the soft rustling of the trees from the soft breeze blowing through; the sound of their shoes moving across the dirt; the occasional animal noise from somewhere nearby; and in the far distance, the sound of midnight traffic.

With her nerves back under control, she opened her eyes, and glanced over at him. She licked her lips and let out a shaky breath. "I'm not ready to talk about that, yet." She saw his face fall for a moment, and his shoulder slumped down. He had been nothing but nice to her, didn't fight back when he was attacked, and had every right to at least take a swing. She felt like she owned him, but she pushed that feeling down because there were more important things at hand than giving into her guilt and sense of obligation.

"Don't take it personally," she said, and made sure to keep her voice even, and calm. The last thing she needed was to put him on the defense by unintentionally hurting his feelings. "It has to do with my son, and I just don't know you well enough to get into it, ok? Only two other people know about it so it's not like you're the only one I'm keeping it from or anything." She let out a relieved sigh when he nodded, and stood up straight, falling back into the casual step he had before.

He opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off when one of the Daimonas ran out onto the path about twenty feet in front of them. It had a branch in its hand, and it was very slowly ripping the bark off of it. It sat down on a small, flat rock and continued eating its meal. It didn't seem to notice the two of them at all as they stood there, frozen in place, their minds blank at the sudden shock of the creature's appearance.

Quinn very slowly pulled one of her axes out of the sheath, and bit her tongue to stop the small gasp of pain that tried as hard as it could to escape. _I'll get used to it, just stay positive. If this thing will help than it's worth the pain_, she thought, and took her aim. _Why does it have to be so fucking cute? It looks like a little porcupine but without the quills. Guess I'm going to have to grow a thicker freaking skin_. She shook her head a little to clear her mind of all thought, and let out a slow breath as she took the shot, and when it hit its target perfectly she tried as hard as she could to mentally prepare herself for what was to come next. _Syndri better be fucking appreciative when I show up tonight 'cause I am not in the mood for his attitude._

"And now for the gross part," she said, sparing Tom a glace as she pulled out her knife. She tried as hard as she could not to notice that his eyes were wide in shock, and he wasn't breathing at all. Her best guess was his brain was having trouble processing what he had just witnessed, and she couldn't blame him at all. Killing these things was easier when they were big and nasty looking, but she didn't have the option of discriminating on the basis of cuteness, and she didn't have time to feel guilty for her actions as she starting cutting into the creature, her eyes watering despite her best efforts. _Please let this be as special as Syndri hopes. Please, just…please._


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, sorry it took so long for the update. I'd like to apologize in advance for any mistakes. I am currently sans beta, so if anyone would like to volunteer or knows anyone they think would be happy editing and spit-balling ideas for a story like this than just send me a private message and we can talk about it more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I can.**

* * *

The door to the small shop opened, triggering the little chime, alerting anyone inside that they now had company. Quinn's nose immediately wrinkled at all of the weird smells that assaulted her senses, and she breathed deep, hoping to adjust to it as quickly as possible. She didn't think she would ever get used to the pungent odors of the various herbs, candles, incense, and body parts from different Daimonas that occupied the shelves that completely covered the walls. She knew by now that he kept the more dangerous, rarer, more expensive, and in some cases illegal items in the back out of sight from prying eyes, but that didn't change the way the tame shit attacked her nose and eyes.

"Syndri, I'm here!" she called out, and pulled the charm away from the sheath, breaking the magic allowing it to become visible once again. She groaned at the pain that shot through her head, but took a deep breath and imagined she was in a field of daisies, relaxing against a tree with her favorite book, and all of this chaos that seemed to constantly surround her was long behind her. The trick worked a little, and the pain let up, but a dull throb set in right behind her eyes, and she knew from experience that wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"I have no time for human pleasantries. Please come in the back!" was the response, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes. He tried hard to learn how to interact with her in a way that wasn't offensive or annoying, but some days she wished he would put in a little more effort. _Don't complain, you'll just make things worse_, she thought, and went off towards the back of the room. The closer she got to the only wall that wasn't covered in shelves the more prominent the throb in her head became. The magic being used in this area was a higher concentration, and she didn't even want to think of the types of consequences she was going to suffer for it.

"I'm sorry I took so long tonight. I had a little trouble finding one that wasn't in a rage looking for mates, or running away from me. You said they were fast, but these things are like border collies on crack or something," she said, and stepped through the portion of the wall that wasn't really there. Her entire body felt like it was being stabbed by thousands of tiny needles and it sucked the breath from her lungs. It only took half a second to walk through the illusion charm, but it felt like hours had passed before she could see again, or take another breath.

Her breathing turned into harsh pants as she leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, and tried as hard as she could not to cry. She wasn't willing to show exactly how much it affected her, exactly how much pain was firing through her nerves as she desperately tried to calm down. If he knew he might not help her anymore, and she couldn't risk that. She shut her eyes again, and imagined the field with the flowers, the shade tree offering a place for her to rest as she read, and Martie playing; running around with Rachel as the two laughed, their voices ringing loudly with nothing to obstruct them.

She gave a start when she felt something on her hand. She glanced up and saw Syndri standing there, looking at her with his giant green eyes, a sympathetic look staring right back at her. She slowly stood up straight, and had to look down in order to maintain eye contact. He was only three feet tall, so she towered over him, but that didn't get rid of the air of authority that clouded around him at all times.

"Come, drink this, it will help," he said, and walked back over to his table. There was a tea pot sitting on a stack of papers, a small bone white cup sitting next to it. Steam was coming out of the spout, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what the ingredients were as she slowly made her way across the floor. She staggered a little, feeling somewhat out of control, but she kept her breathing even, and forced herself to make it.

"I trust even with the difficulty you obtained all you were asked?" he said, sitting down on the bench, and looked up at her again. She simply nodded, and slid the sheath off of her shoulders and carefully dropped it to the ground near her right foot. The loss of weight was an immediate relief on her tired body, and she felt fifty pounds lighter.

She rolled her head along her shoulders, hearing small popping sounds coming from her neck before she carefully picked up the teapot. She slowly poured the scolding amber colored liquid into the delicate cup. Her hands were trembling slightly, and the deeper she breathed the more control she was gaining, but it was going to take time. That fact set her on edge, but she forced the frustration down. She couldn't help but wonder when the pressure cooker holding her emotions would burst, setting all of her feelings free.

"Good, good," he said, and picked up the pen sitting next to a book that was opened to a blank page. She knew it was his journal of sorts. He kept records of all the different parts from the different species she collected, the different potions they were used for, the results they had with her son's condition and so on. But one evening she had snuck a peak, and knew he didn't just write about the science of it all, but wrote his thoughts, his concerns, and some of the passages had filled her with a sense of dread.

She carefully wrapped her fingers around the handle of the cup, using her fingertips of her left hand to keep it balanced since the trembling had yet to cease. She sucked in a deep breath at the feel of the hot liquid through the thin china, and very slowly brought the cup up to her mouth, and blew on it for a few seconds before taking a tentative sip. It wasn't as hot as she had anticipated. It didn't burn her tongue quite as much and she thought it would, but it still left its mark in her mouth.

As soon as the hot liquid touched her taste buds, her face contorted and her eyes scrunched shut. She forced it down her throat, swallowing with a loud gulping sound that she swore made an echo. As soon as she could she started coughing, her throat and chest burned with the effort. She set the cup down quickly, but carefully, and grabbed onto the edge of the table to hold herself up. The taste was strong, like nothing she had ever had before, and she needed to use her entire body to keep it down. If Syndri said it would help she wasn't about to doubt him, she only wished he had given her a little warning first.

"God, what is that stuff?" she gasped, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She cringed a little when she felt the saliva, but didn't worry about it too much. She struggled for breath as the coughing finally started to dissipate, but she felt more in control. She closed her eyes, and let her mind wander off to the field again.

She would be reading something dull and normal, something that had nothing to do with magic or demons or unbelievable worlds. It would be about lovers in love and tragedy striking, or someone finding out that they had a larger influence on the people around them despite their insecurities and belief that they made no difference on the world. And Martie and Rachel would be playing in the foreground, laughing, and calling out for her to join them before finally giving up and sitting on either side of her, making her feel cocooned by their body heat, and safe from anything that wished her harm.

"Dragon's Blood," he said in a nonchalant tone. His voice ripped her from her happy place, and dropped her back to reality. It took a second for his words to really sink in, but when they did her eyes went wide, she became very pale, and her entire body immediately became clammy as nausea gripped her throat and stomach.

"You fed me dragon blood?" she yelled, her voice so high in pitch it strained her vocal cords. "How could you not tell me you were giving me blood? That is no ok!" Her voice echoed throughout the small room, and it rung in their ears for what felt like a full minute after she finished shouting. She watched, heart hammering in her chest, as he put his pen down very slowly, and pinned her with a sharp look.

"Dragon's Blood is the name of a plant commonly used by my kind as a pain killer, and sleep aide. It is called such because when it is broken down into a liquid it is a deep red color. Do you honestly think I would not inform you before feeding you actual blood? You think that little of me?" Her knees gave out and she collapsed in the chair next to her as relief washed over her; her entire body felt cold and somewhat stinky from the sweat. The feeling didn't last, however, when she looked over at Syndri. He was still staring at her with some hurt shining through his otherwise blank expression. Guilt raged through her, and it was obvious his question wasn't rhetorical. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't force herself to hold his gaze.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long night and some other things happened, things that involve my personal life, and a work life, and I don't really know what to believe anymore," she said with a groan. She rubbed her face with both of her hands, and took in a deep calming breath. It was released in a long, tired sigh and she wasn't sure if it was the affects of the tea, or the last few days catching up with her, but she suddenly felt like she could curl up on the hard wooden floor and get a good night's rest.

"I will never understand the stress humans put themselves under by living multiple lives. Would it not be easier to conjoin these aspects of yourself instead of compartmentalizing?" he asked, catching her attention once again. One perfectly manicured eyebrow quirked, and she looked at him as if he had just grown a second head.

"Really? You want me to start telling people about this place and everything I know about the Daimonas because you think it will reduce my stress?" Her gaze locked on his face, but he wasn't looking at her anymore. His body froze; she didn't even think he was breathing, but his eyes shifted from one side to the other quickly, not really focusing on anything in particular as he contemplated her words.

"You are in a unique position," he said, and she rolled her eyes. _'Unique', damn fucking right this is 'unique'_, she thought. "However, not every human being is under the care of a Dakalos. Therefore, any other reason to separate one's life in a way that causes unnecessary stress is petty and childish." She couldn't help the little smirk that pulled at the corners of her mouth, and gave her a muted Cheshire cat like appearance.

"Good save on your self-justification. Thought I had you trapped in a corner there for a second," she said, and took another sip of the harsh tea, which instantly wiped the smile off her face. Since she was expecting it this time, she was able to control her reaction more, and only cringed as she swallowed the foul liquid. As she sipped her tea, she watched as Syndri picked up his pen, and continued writing. His lettering was perfect, each symbol drawn out individually and with great care. She couldn't help but noticed that tonight he was writing in his native language so she knew right away that whatever it was about was too important for him to risk even her potentially reading.

"Hey, are dragons actually real?" she asked after a few moments of silence. She had finished the drink, and set the empty cup on the table as she looked at him with a quizzical expression. The pain she had been in was now a very dull throb that could easily be ignored. One of the unforeseen side effects, however, of being tired was the lack of an internal thought-filter, and she didn't think at all before speaking. "All of these other demons and things are real, so are there actual dragons flying around and nesting where people can't see them? Because I'm not going to lie, I would probably slay a dragon even if we didn't need a part of it for a potion."

At those words, Syndri stopped writing, his pen only centimeters from the paper, and he looked as though he were frozen mid-action. She could feel an uneasiness dripping off of him, and she immediately became tense, and worried. She honestly didn't know how much more stress she could take, and her mind felt as if it were about to snap in half from the effort. A shudder passed through her body when his gaze flicked up her.

"Are you saying you would kill a Daimonas for sport?" he asked. His voice was very controlled, calculated but also curious. The way he was looking at her, the expression in those large mossy green eyes made her feel very nervous. She couldn't help but feel like she was being tested, and she was terrified of getting something wrong.

"What?" she said quickly. Her voice strained as she tried to sound calm and failed miserably. "No, no, absolutely not. I just meant hypothetically it would be a little bad ass to slay a dragon. All of the toughest, most respected characters in fantasy have killed a freaking dragon, and I just think that having that bragging right – in a totally hypothetical way – would be cool." She felt crazed as she rambled, her mind out of her own control, and sweat licked the back of her neck as she desperately backpedaled for safety.

"Quinn Fabray, that is the very definition of killing for sport. It is a senseless act done only as a show of strength in order to boast to one's peers, and gain a higher social standing within the community," he said, his tone sharper than before, and it made her look away from him, and stare at the scarred wooden table in front of her. She felt like a chastised child, and that feeling did not sit well in her gut. She slowly occupied her hands by pouring herself another cup of tea to prevent herself from fidgeting under his powerful gaze.

"Ok, but dragons aren't real, right? I was just saying that in a make believe world it would be a cool from an outsider's perspective if I slayed a dragon. I'm not saying I would literally do it just for sport if they existed," she said, and carefully set the pot back down on the small pile of papers. Then she looked back at him, hesitant but curious. "Do they exist or…? Because you completely stepped over my question and went straight to the lecturing about morals part. Thank you for that horrible déjà vu, by the way. I feel ten years old again."

"No," he said, his tone much more relaxed than before. "Dragons are not real. There was a similar creature to the human concept of a dragon that existed roughly forty-thousand years ago, but unfortunately died off when competition for food became too fierce." Questions starting flying through her mind, and though she wanted nothing more than to ask she knew it would be best if she kept her mouth shut. She simply nodded and carefully brought the cup of tea towards her mouth.

It was much cooler than the previous one so she took a larger pull from the cup. She immediately regretted it when it felt like her sinus cavity had been smacked with a two by four. The nasty flavor intensified as the liquid cooled, and she felt overwhelmed as she did her best to choke it down. She quickly flicked her eyes in Syndri's direction, and if he noticed she was struggling he didn't let on. He simply went back to writing, and she watched him as the amber liquid-of-awful was slowly drained, and took up residence in her system.

"Did that happen a lot?" she asked, her voice low and serious instead of ranting in an almost childlike way. "You got pretty upset with me, and you normally don't get upset like that. Was hunting for sport a big problem for the Daimonas and Dakalos?" She watched him closely after she finished speaking, her eyes raked in everything about his facial expression, hoping to catch a glimpse of something more than the hyper-rational intellect that he normally showed.

"I am afraid I cannot answer your question, Quinn Fabray," he said, his pen held centimeters above the paper with is gaze fixed on the wooden table. Her eyebrows furrowed. He almost always answered her questions, and when he couldn't there was always an explanation as to why. Some information was just too delicate and didn't belong inside a human mind, or he simply just didn't know.

"How come?" she asked, her voice curious, and she took another very small sip of the tea. She would need to pour herself some more soon, and she wasn't looking forward to it.

"Your use of the past tense is incorrect, and I cannot answer a question that is –at its core – wrong," he said, and started writing again.

"Oh," was the only thing she could think of to say. She watched as he went back to writing, and he didn't seem bothered by the weight behind those words. To Quinn it felt like a heavy, wet blanket had been pulled over her inside, wrapping her mind up and compromising her ability to shove things like that aside. The implication of those words made her feel very uncomfortable in her own skin, the same way an ad for some animal rescue group or a depressing documentary would. His words were a harsh reminder that some of the horrors in this world were caused by her own species and not some easily vilified _other_.

"Um, not to rush was you're doing," she said, no longer able to sit with the heavy feeling in her chest. "But are you going to make that potion tonight? Unless the parts I collected aren't perishable. Then I guess it can wait until tomorrow." He dropped the pen in his hand, and she startled at the unexpected move. _Thank God this cup is empty or it would've spilled all over me._

"Right, right. I apologize. I too am dealing with a personal matter, and it seems to be occupying more of my attention than I had realized," he said, his words rushed out in one long string that she was barely able to keep up with. She wanted to ask what it was. She had to bite her tongue to stop the words from crashing out of her mouth in a huge ramble.

Was he writing a letter, and if so, to whom? Was there some sort of Dakalos council that he had to report to and they found out he was teaching her, and helping her, and they forbade him from doing so, and now he was arguing on her behalf? Her imagination went wild, but she said nothing. She simply poured herself another cup of tea, and watched as he hopped off his chair and rummaged through the pockets of the sheath until he found everything he was looking for.

"No need to apologize," she said and took a sip. It now tasted how week old trashed smelled and keeping it down was not an easy task. "I know exactly how that feels. Especially today." Despite trying not to, she ran through everything that had happened over the last day and a half; Rachel sneaking into her room for a quickie, Rachel telling her about going on a date with producer What's His Face, and finding out that Tom isn't who he completely said he is. Now she was a little more fond of him because of it. Bow-ties aside, he was actually interesting, and the thought of seeing him at work didn't repulse her.

So things with Tom would hopefully be les awkward, but on the other hand there was Rachel. Quinn had apologized, a half ass apology that didn't even begin to cover everything she had to be sorry for, but an apology at least. But things were different, maybe irreparably so, because Rachel had gone out on a date that wasn't a one night stand meant to release tension. Plus she had told Quinn about it. This was a turning point, Quinn could feel it; she just wasn't sure if they were headed towards some form of normalcy or about to nose dive off a cliff, and not knowing scared her more than hunting monsters in the middle of the night.

A sharp pain suddenly burst right above her left eye, and intensified as the seconds slowly ticked by. She winced and rubbed her head; taking deep breaths and going to her happy place with the field of flowers to try and ignore the pain. She looked over to Syndri's workbench on the opposite side of the room, and sure enough the little blue guy was starting to make the potion, which meant there were more magical particles in the air than normal.

She wished she could get up and leave, but she knew better than that. If his concentration was broken than he would have to start over. She wasn't sure how much of the parts she had collected were needed; maybe only small pieces of each or maybe all of it, and she couldn't risk this night being for not. After all of the confusing, and bad things that had happened in the last day and a half, she really needed a win just to stop from collapsing on the floor in tears and crying all of the stress out.

She tried to pay attention to what he was doing. She tried as hard as she could to breathe through the pain so she could observe the art of potion making, but it was just too much for her. All she could really see from this spot at the table was his back, and his arms lifting different glass containers with strange looking contents, and they would disappear from sight as he poured them into the beaker in front of him. The room began to smell vile, even worse than the tea and the way the front of the shop smelled, and she poured herself another glass just to distract herself from it.

The small space was filled with the sound of the delicate tinkling of glass gently bumping against glass as he stirred the potion in the beaker over the burner. To Quinn that area looked more like a high school chemistry class than a workbench used to make magical objects and other various things. There were no cauldrons, or anything cliché, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little disappointed by it.

"It is finished," he said, and put the glass mixer down, and then turned off the burner. Quinn gulped the last of the tea; the pain in her head almost more than she could bear. She watched as he very carefully poured the contents of the beaker into a smaller glass vile, and slowly screwed the cap on. "I will store it here for safe keeping. You may go home now to your offspring and mate if you do not wish to converse with me anymore tonight."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stood up, bragging the sheath on the way. "She's not by mate." Her voice sounded annoyed, but it quickly changed to confusion as she said, "And shouldn't I hold onto it in case Martie has another episode?"

Syndri turned, potion in hand, and looked up at her with that same unreadable expression that drove her crazy. "You share a living space, prepare meals for each other, care for the same child, and occasionally fornicate; she's your mate. And it would be best if I held onto this potion for now. It is powerful, and made from more than one very rare ingredient which makes it highly valued by other Dakalos who may try to steal it." She contemplated that for a second, and although she agreed that would be bad she was still nervous about not having that on her.

"She's not my mate, and what if I need it in the middle of the night? What if he starts throwing a really bad fit and gets violent like he has before, or if he starts growing another body part or something?" Her voice was tight, strained with her worry, but Syndri didn't react. Standing in front of someone who wasn't easily rattled help her calm down some; the rest was from being too tired to stay stressed out.

"She is your mate, and in that event I would simply use a transporter charm to send it directly to you," he said, sounding a little condescending as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her eyebrow quirked, and forced herself not to react badly to his tone.

"A transporter charm?" she asked, feeling a little stupid but she knew it wasn't her fault. He was supposed to be teaching her all of this, after all, and it wasn't her fault if he left something out.

"Yes, it is a very powerful charm used to transport objects or creatures from one place to another. It can only be used once, and are very hard to make so I will ask you to only request this potion if the situation becomes deadly or beyond your control," he said, and she had to force herself not to roll her eyes. _What about this isn't beyond my control?_

"Ok, I'll keep that in mind," she said, and a very long yawn forced its way from her throat. She stretched her arms high above her head, and felt some of the vertebra in her back pop and snap back into place. "I need to get home. I feel like I'm about to pass out, and Rachel will get worried if I'm not home soon." She had no idea what time it was, but she had a feeling it was well after four. _Thank God today is my day off or I would quit, or just let myself be fired so I could get unemployment._

"Yes," Syndri said, and nodded his head a little. She could have sworn the corners of his mouth were quirked up in a small smile, but she had to be seeing things. Syndri never smiled, as far as she knew he wasn't capable of such a thing. "Many mates become stressed when they are separated for too long." _That was definitely a smile._

"She's not my mate. Just let it go!"

"I will let go of nothing. Now hurry home before she comes here looking for you and tears my shop apart in her desperation to be reunited." _God, what a little prick. If I didn't need him so badly I'd punt him out a fifth floor walkup_, she thought and shook her head before making her way home.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey, guys! I just finished this chapter a few minutes ago, and like with most of my work, it hasn't been proof read. I'm in desperate need for a new beta - someone who has the time to not only proof read, but also help with brainstorming and whatnot - so if you know anyone you think might be interested, please send me a private message. You'll be rewarded with awesome points, I just know it. **

**I took what feels like a little bit of a risk with this chapter by writing from the perspective of a different character, so let me know what you think: does it hurt the story, make it more interesting, you really don't care either way? I love hearing back from you guys, so don't be shy. Anyway, enough rambling, enjoy the chapter and have an awesome day!**

* * *

The sun slowly rose over the horizon, but the sky was cloudy so instead of the usual arrays of orange and pinks that appear around sunrise, today it was turning everything an eerie gray. That was especially true for what lay beyond the midsize window, as light crept passed the blinds, and bled over the wall and carpet of the small bedroom. The nightlight flickered off, punching its timecard now that the dark was being banished by someone else for a while.

As the room became illuminated, the movie posters on the wall, the magazine cut outs, and pictures printed from the internet became clearer. The room was clean, but not spotless. Yesterday's clothes were in a pile next to the closet door. A few toys were on top of the toy box, thrown there hastily before bedtime. The only part of the room that looked messy was the bookshelf. It was overflowing with non-fiction science books about animals, mostly bears and large cats, but also a few on whales thrown in to create the illusion of a more rounded education.

Martie laid in the middle of his twin size bed, face buried in his pillow, completely dead to the world as it started to come back to life. His blankets and top sheet had been pulled over him in a messy pile as if he had created a nest in his sleep. The only part of him that could be seen was his messy hair, sticking out from under the blankets.

He normally wasn't the type of child to wake up at sunrise. Even as a baby he would have to be woken in order to feed or have his diaper changed, which he protested loudly. Before he became ill and all of his energy was drained from his body, he would still protest getting up in the morning, but it was a different type of defiance.

Instead of wailing or throwing a temper tantrum, he would do everything he possibly could to slow things down. He would eat his breakfast as a snail's pace, take fifteen minutes to brush his teeth, twenty to brush his hair, and would conveniently forget how to tie his shoes hoping that if he took too long getting ready his mother would decide dropping him of at school or daycare was too big of a hassle and would forget the whole thing.

She never did.

This morning was different, however. This morning as the sun rose, and the neighbors in the apartment upstairs got up and started shuffling around, Martie's eyes opened just a crack. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and a tightness gripped the insides of his belly with cold fingers that sent a shiver up his spine. Something was watching him. He knew the feeling well from the older kids at school who like to sit at the picnic table at recess and watch the younger ones with hawk eyes as they play, waiting to pick off one of the weak, and lately Martie was always weak.

He slowly pulled the covers down just enough to peek into the room. He blinked a few times as the light invaded his senses, but since it was dulled by the clouds it only took seconds for his vision to adjust. He didn't see anything in the room, nothing was out of place, and his mother and god mother weren't watching him sleep from the doorway like they did sometimes. He thought it was weird, and kind of creepy and their explanations for why they did it never made sense to him. How can watching someone sleep be comforting?

He carefully rolled over onto his back, and looked down at the end of his bed. Anticipation and anxiety flooded through his veins as he did so. What if there was something at the foot of the bed? His mom thought he never heard her when she talked to Rachel about the real life monsters she hunted down almost every night. What if they decided to return the favor? He's learned from his books that animals always go after the young and the old or the sick. A young sick person would be easy pickings for a monster with giant teeth and claws.

When he looked down, nothing was there, and he let out a breath of relief, a breath he hadn't even realized he had been holding. He scanned that side of his room with his eyes, once, twice, three times when he finally noticed what was different. There was a shadow on the blinds. Something was sitting on his windowsill and trying to peer inside the room. He could tell it was fairly small, but that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Monsters don't have to be big to be deadly. Sometimes they don't even have to be visible at all.

As he stared at the shadow wondering if he should lie still and hoped it would go away on its own, or run into his mother's room and tell her to grab the axes she thought he didn't know about, something started to happen. A feeling washed over him that caused his eyebrows to crinkle in confusion. He felt hungry, starving in a way he had never felt before. His stomach felt like it had claws and was digging against his insides. He felt dirty, like layers of oil and dirt covered his skin making him feel weighted and strange. Most of all, he felt lonely. It was like a sinking pit in his chest that screamed to be filled, to be hugged, to be loved.

Tears sprang to his eyes and he clutched the blanket so tightly his knuckles turned white. His throat felt like it was closing up, and when he tried to suck in a breath it turned into a tight sob. He quickly threw off the blankets, suddenly feeling too hot and stuffy, and sat up so fast he became lightheaded. He slowly put his feet on the floor and stood, moving carefully until the dizziness went away.

As soon as the world became normal again and the only thing clouding his vision was his tears, he bolted for the window. He wrapped his hand tightly around the string, and pulled with all his strength. The old blinds moved only a few inches. When they stopped, he almost began to panic. He wrapped his other hand around the string, and pulled, and for a second was afraid it was going to snap.

To his relief, they moved, not smoothly like they were supposed to but enough so that half of the window was exposed, and he could finally see outside. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the creature sitting on the sill. It wasn't a monster like he had thought it would be. It wasn't some type of imp, or elf, or fairy, or even a demon that had come to do bad things. It was much more ordinary than that, but still a shock.

It was a cat, still young and fairly small, only about five pounds. It was missing patches of its mangy brown and black fur, and it looked underweight. Martie and never seen an animal like this before, but he had a feeling if it touched it, he would be able to feel its bones through the skin. The cat, barely more than a kitten, looked up at him with eyes so green Martie was sure it wasn't just a normal cat even though that's exactly what it looked like, pathetic and starved yes, but a cat no less.

The cat didn't make a sound, didn't cry out for food or attention, didn't startle or run away. It just sat there, staring at him with those deep green eyes, and those feelings that had been so overwhelming a moment ago started to ease a little. He could still feel them in the back of his mind, but they were dull now something entirely different started to happen that should have confused him, should have scared him, should have had him calling out for his mother or Rachel, but he didn't. He simply stood there, and let it happen.

As he looked into the cat's eyes, images started flooding his mind. He was inside of a cage, the noises and smells that used to be frightening and overwhelming weren't as bad now that a few days had gone by. Someone walked into the room, and everyone else started yowling trying their best to get the person's attention. Calls for food, calls for scratches behind the ears, calls for something to kill the endless boredom of being stuck in a cage rang loudly throughout the cramped room.

The next image was a small apartment, sparsely furnished, but warm, not like the cold cage. There was a woman who was tall, almost like a giant, but kind and gentle, and smelled really nice. She had food and toys and curling up against her body at night to sleep made Martie feel safe and content in way he wasn't used to. She called him Iris, and her long nails felt good as she ran them along his back before gently pulling on his tail.

Then he became bored. The woman would leave for what felt like days, and he wandered from room to room searching for her. When he decided she wasn't coming back he ran over to the couch. The fabric felt interesting under his paws, and he couldn't resist the temptation of bringing his front paws up onto the leg, and sinking his little claws in, pulling down hard. This would get them ready for hunting, he just knew it. When the woman came home and saw what he had done she slammed on door, yelling loudly, and anger rolled off of her so strongly that Martie ran and hid under the bed.

This went on for a long time, the woman would leave, Martie was all alone, and would find something to do when crying for her to come back didn't do any good. When she finally returned, she would get mad and start yelling and stomping her feet around as she walked. She stopped petting him, stopped giving him special food from the plates she ate from, and stopped snuggling him at night.

The final image in his head was similar, with one really big difference. He had torn up something more important than furniture or clothing. He had climbed up onto a table and found some pictures, the paper glossy and cool and it had weird smells to it. Smells of smoke and cologne made his nose feel itchy. He touched the paper with his paw, and when it moved he sunk his claws in deep. That made it move more, and he gave chase. He rolled onto his side, and held onto the paper with his teeth and front paws, while delivering the deadly blow by quickly and repeating scratching with his hind feet, tearing the paper to tiny pieces.

When he was done playing he curled up on the couch and took a nap. He woke up when he heard the key turning in the lock, and his body felt anxious, and tense. He pushed the throw pillow up and slid behind it, pressed tightly between it and the couch. Hopefully she wouldn't find him here. She always found him when he hid under the bed. As soon as she saw the mess, she was furious. She stomped around looking for him, her voice full of so much anger she didn't sound like herself.

She came close to the couch and fear filled Martie's veins. Instinct made him run, but there was nowhere else to hide. The bedroom and bathroom doors were closed so escaping there wasn't an option. When she saw him she went quiet, and he ran under the couch. There was too much space between the bottom of the couch and the floor. He didn't feel concealed or safe but it was better than being out in the open.

When she reached underneath the couch he froze. Normally she picked him up by the scruff like his mother would, and carried him into the bathroom for a "time out". Normally she would tell him he was more trouble than he was worth, and she should send him away, but nothing ever came of it. Today, the hand smacked him hard, hitting him on the shoulder, and his body went sliding across the wooden floor. He tried to run, but she was faster. She grabbed his scruff and lifted him out from under the couch. His back feet and tail curled up close to his belly on instinct as she carried him.

Only this time it wasn't towards the door. She carried him across the room, and opened the window. She held him out into the cold air and let go. She was back inside before he hit the metal fire escape. The window was slammed shut before he could even make a sound. He stood out on the cold metal crying for her to let him in until he was shivering so much he knew he needed to find someplace else to go, someplace safe, someplace warm where the people didn't leave you alone all day, and scream at you when they came home.

Martie gasped and stumbled backwards. Sweat rolled down his forehead and the back of his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. He felt winded and exhausted like he had been running all day, but the sky was still gray, the sun still barely poking out from behind the tall buildings as it continued to rise.

Iris was lying down on the sill now, looking up at him, and watching closely as he caught his breath. The hunger pains bore into his belly once again, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and kick the ground, and shred everything in his room. He knew he couldn't do that, knew it wouldn't do any good since it clearly didn't help Iris. He tried to open the window to let her in, but it was locked and he didn't know how to open it. Desperation coiled inside him as he struggled to help the cat, and his mind suddenly cleared when he figured out the solution. He needed to get to his mom. She would know what to do.

…

Quinn was reluctantly pulled from sleep, and at first she couldn't figure out why. What happened that made her leave the very weird and yet pleasant dream of having a picnic with James Franco on an empty subway car? In reality that was unsanitary and a little serial killer-ish, but in her dream it had been relaxing, and fun, and clothing optional. And of course since she had somehow gotten on the universe's bad side, the dream ended right before things were going to get very interesting.

She groaned and rolled over onto her other side. It was her last day off. Her last day before she had to go back to that hellhole of an office job, and she was going to savor every moment of it. She had a plan, written down on a piece of loose leaf paper, and tucked away in her nightstand drawer. It simply read: step one, sleep 'til noon; step two, eat sugary cereal and watch cartoons with Martie; step three, nap until dinner time; step four, repeat step two. Then after a long day of doing practically nothing, she would sit down with her checkbook and pay bills. Then binge eat on ice cream to make herself feel better.

It's what her days off had become, leaving the late night parties, and keg stands, and shots of alcohol she could barley handle far behind in her college days. They were so different from her life now that the memories didn't feel like her own. Some days she looked back on those nights of blowing off an early morning class to go to a frat party the night before, and she feels as if they're someone else's memories that had been implanted in her head. Unfortunately since Rachel was right there with her, she knew that they were all true.

None of that mattered now, though, because it was nine in the morning and something had woken her up. She rolled over onto her stomach, and buried her face in her pillow. She would fall back to sleep, even if it was by sheer force of will. It was too early to be woken up on her last day off. She wouldn't have another break from work for two weeks, and being awake right now was unacceptable. Sure, sleeping in until noon was a pipe dream since Martie wouldn't be able to go that long without sneaking into her room to cuddle with her and unintentionally waking her, but nine was too soon.

She groaned again – a low rumble that reverberated in the back of her throat, and she thought for a second maybe it was more of a growl – when she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door. _I swear I'm going to freak out if they don't go away_, she thought and laid very still when she heard the bedroom door open. She could tell from the sound of the footsteps that it was Martie. She could also tell that he was trying to be quiet; only walking on the balls of his feet so he wouldn't disturb her too much.

She kept still, didn't move a single muscle, and made sure to keep her breathing even as he crept towards her bed. _Maybe if I play possum he'll change his mind and leave the room_, she thought. She had to fight to keep her face expressionless when she felt his tiny hands gently touch her skin. His little fingertips carefully moved across her cheekbone, and when he got to her eyelid, and gently pulled the skin up she almost lost it.

"Mom," he whispered, and she groaned. If he was this determined to wake her up then no amount of playing dead was going to make him go away. "Mommy, there's a kitty at the window. Can I keep it?" His voice was too soft for her to hear, but when she opened her eyes, blinking some of the sleep away, she knew it was something serious. He never frowned like that unless they were out of his favorite cereal or Rachel wouldn't hand him the remote to the television even though Saturday he was allowed to watch cartoons right after breakfast.

"What, baby? I can't hear you," she said, and rolled over onto her back. She rubbed her tired eyes and stretched out. Her joints popped and cracked, and she let out a sigh of relief. She let her gaze fall on her son, and she couldn't help but smile in amusement. Whatever it was he wanted, he was nervous about it. She could see his lips subtly moving as he went over what he wanted to say in his head.

"There's a kitty sitting on my window," he said, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. Her eyebrow quirked up, but she made sure her expression stayed neutral. _Crap, I bet he's going to want to keep it_, she thought and watched as he took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Rachel had taught him breathing exercises, and Quinn was a little proud to see him using them as a coping mechanism for the stress he was obviously feeling. "Can I keep it?" _Bull's-eye, give the pink teddy bear to the lady!_

"Martie, it's just a stray. Leave it alone, ok? It might have a disease or something," she said, and rolled over onto her side, trying to get comfortable again. She almost startled at the look that came over his face. His brows furrowed in anger, and the expression in his eyes became dark, burning in a way she had never seen from him before.

"She's not a stray, Mom," he said, his voice low, but tight and she was too thrown to react to the glare that he was giving her. "Her name is Iris." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she sat up a little. Now that she was taller than him again, some of the anger vanished from his face, but she could tell he was still seething.

"Does she have a collar and a tag?" she asked, and pulled the blankets back from body. She couldn't help but shiver, and goosebumps immediately erupted all over her exposed skin. She stood up, suddenly awake and alert even as her sore body screamed at her from the effort. Stray cats were common in this neighborhood, and a housecat on the loose wouldn't survive for long.

"No, but she told me her name," he said, and she stopped. She looked down at him with more confusion but also annoyance. He picked up on that right away, and nervously licked his lips, and took another deep breath. She did the same, not wanting to start her day on a bad note even though that's where this seemed to be headed.

"Martie, if it doesn't have a collar then it's just a stray, alright? Now I had a really long night and I'm tired. Go ask Rachel to put on some cartoons for you, ok, baby?" she said and held up the covers as she slipped her legs back under them. She didn't lie down, though, because the look on his face made her freeze. She had never seen him look so angry before. He threw tantrums just like any kid, but for the most part he was mild mannered and seeing that look on his face made a cold shiver run through her.

"She's not a stray, Mom," he said, and for a second she thought he was going to stomp his foot in frustration. "She had a home, but they left her behind. Now she's really sad, and wants a new home." She took in a really slow breath and held it for a few seconds, letting the extra oxygen flow through her system and calm her before exhaling slowly. She didn't know where this attitude was coming from, and her body tensed with worry. Was this normal seven year old behavior or was this yet another symptom of his sickness?

"You need to watch yourself, Martie, or you're going to be in your room by yourself all day. Do you understand me?" she said, her lips set in a firm line, and her eyebrow quirked up as she waited for a response. He let out an annoyed sigh, but nodded his head. She watched as he took a moment to breathe deep, and he calmed down a little, but she could tell by his tensed shoulders and that determined look in his eyes that in his mind, this conversation was far from over.

Before he could begin to argue again she said, "Good. Now I'm tired, and I need some more sleep." His gaze fell to the floor, and he looked really sad, dejected in a way she didn't even know he was capable of. She wanted to give in. She wanted to tell him she would take the cat to a vet, and if it was healthy and friendly they could keep it just to wipe that look off his face. He had been through a hell most people don't even know exist, but if it was one thing she didn't need it was another hungry mouth to feed.

"So go play with Aunt Rachel, and we'll talk about this later, ok?" He nodded, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat and he slowly walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him as he turned and went down the hall towards the kitchen. She sighed, and fell back against her pillow. She stared up at the ceiling, and scratched her forehead lightly as if she were trying to force the thoughts out of her mind. _I guess he'll be getting a kitten for his birthday. Hopefully by then I'll be working full time_, she thought, and threw the covers back; succumbing to the fact that there was no way she'd be able to get back to sleep.


End file.
